About: Canticle of Doherty

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An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

Boots crunched over dry pine needles, growing closer to the young woman sitting on the old rope swing. She swung leisurely back and forth without acknowledging the approaching man, summer dress drifting about her ankles like sea foam. His large hand gently enclosed over the rope above her left hand to slow her ascent. The young woman glanced coyly up at him. He was muscular, with dark hair and light eyes. He was not a day over twenty-five. The demure woman also chuckled at his comment. “I did no such thing,” she muttered, though it was not entirely convincing. She smiled at the girls.

Attributes	Values
rdfs:label	Canticle of Doherty
rdfs:comment	Boots crunched over dry pine needles, growing closer to the young woman sitting on the old rope swing. She swung leisurely back and forth without acknowledging the approaching man, summer dress drifting about her ankles like sea foam. His large hand gently enclosed over the rope above her left hand to slow her ascent. The young woman glanced coyly up at him. He was muscular, with dark hair and light eyes. He was not a day over twenty-five. The demure woman also chuckled at his comment. “I did no such thing,” she muttered, though it was not entirely convincing. She smiled at the girls.
dbkwik:earthenring...iPageUsesTemplate	dbkwik:resource/8LepC5Fckgnc0gIxzSaRhw==
Author	Nerit
Title	Canticle of Doherty
authorcat	Nerit
abstract	Boots crunched over dry pine needles, growing closer to the young woman sitting on the old rope swing. She swung leisurely back and forth without acknowledging the approaching man, summer dress drifting about her ankles like sea foam. His large hand gently enclosed over the rope above her left hand to slow her ascent. The young woman glanced coyly up at him. He was muscular, with dark hair and light eyes. He was not a day over twenty-five. “You’ve put a spell on me, Aislin.” The man whispered as he gazed down at her, and reached for her hand. She relented and loosened her grip to allow him to kiss the soft skin on the back of it. The demure woman also chuckled at his comment. “I did no such thing,” she muttered, though it was not entirely convincing. Four figures stood at the edge of the cliff above the Azurelode Mine. “The secrets of men, love-sighs, the murmurs of mothers to their babes…these are not our lot.” Aislin watched the laborers in their work, the way their muscles rippled in such angles unlike a woman’s. Not their lot… The harsh cawing of a jay shook her from her thoughts. “Follow me, newly-made-women,” the old woman turned from the mine. Aislin’s cousins were quick behind her wrinkled and rough heels. The girl stood for awhile longer on the cliff’s edge, where the shrubs hid the true path upward. She cringed at the jay’s incessant call. They stood before a granite stone face, the little worn path continuing under as if it were a doorway. “This is the sacred site,” the old woman explained, with a hand on the smooth, speckled stone. Her wild grey hair swung past her shoulders as she moved back, and a blue feather fell to the dust at her feet. “This is the Road of Exiles. If you listen, you can still hear their echoes.” She smiled at the girls. “She won’t be happy.” Aislin jumped from her log seat when she heard the voice of her little sister. “Go away, Bidelia.” She threw salt over the fire in the clay cauldron. “You think you know what you’re doing?” “Go away; you’ll understand when you’re older,” she said while staring at the resurging flames. “It is not salt I turn to fire, but the heart of the man I seek. Let him have no peace of mind until he come to me. It is not salt I turn to fire, but the heart of the man I seek. Let him have no peace of mind until he come to me. It is not salt I turn to fire, but the heart of the man I seek. He shall have no peace of mind until he come to me. ”

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