Blood of the Laurel

tion did

ged her from the Forum, her hands bound in iron, her wrists bruised from the weigh

ods had o

road past the city's edge. A sandstorm rose without warning, howling like a beast loos

uried in sand, throat dry as

was

world ha

and cruel, the sun a constant blade overhead. She should have died many times. Sh

ight, delirious and near dea

er-it f

d down the center. Vines coiled around black marble like veins. And in the cente

d have tu

foot, bloodied, and whispered the onl

lar

d. The wind stille

se a voice-not kind,

vengeance, Ca

her knees,

es

ve me yo