Monday, November 24, 2008
Lucy wandered through the bazaar, her hands trailing over knitted jumpers and scarves, hand made Christmas cards and rows of stones with painted faces. For a few scant seconds as she passed, Julie spotted the goods from the other side of the divide, the White Market. Rows of skulls, bottles of potions, pouches and vials containing cold hearts and pixie tears flickered into view and faded moments later.
The effect was strong enough to raise eyebrows among the mortal shoppers and Julie hurried to catch up with her charge. “Lucy,” she said. “Put you gloves on, dear, or you’ll catch your death.”