[Sake] Black Lives Matter Face Mask
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Sometimes he had stared long and hard at a sacred oak, stared at it for hours, and in the moment of a half-breath, he saw it. Teasing him. Luring him. Mirrowen. The Druidecht were the intermediaries between the beings who dwelled there and those who lived and breathed and died. Occasionally there were Druidecht so accepted by the spirits that they were invited to dwell in Mirrowen. There was no death there, or so it was told, unlike the world he lived in—a world where death met his gaze often. Where the slightest misstep of chance could end a life. The worlds were opposites. One full of life. The other of death.
Annon smelled the smoke before he saw the hovel and smiled with relief that it was nearby. Through a thicket of maples and witherberries, Black Lives Matter Face Mask he spied the small, cramped structure and heard the grating rasp of a whetstone and blade. There were voices drifting in as well, and Annon pursed his lips, surprised to find another visitor already there. His annoyance flared, but he shoved the emotion aside. He had not expected another guest to have found this place. It was one of his favorite haunts.
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