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Nameless: A Fairy Tale
by A Very Tall Oak Tree in City Park
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“For her…a husband for her…” And then the words of
Nameless, “Within a third he shall be the age that you are now—your
equal in strength and ability…” It all made sense. Nameless had
somehow foreseen her own fate, and feared it dreadfully. What was
worse, he could be no protection to her. Bowen’s strength equaled his
own…Mildred was more cunning than he had ever imagined. When Bowen
returned that evening, he was with another, smaller figure. Morgan
knew at once that his fears were confirmed. This time he rushed down
to meet the two arrivals, wanting desperately to see Nameless once
more. She had been so good to him, so trusting, and this was how he
had repaid her. The moment she walked in the gate, her eyes found his.
She gave him a weak smile and waited until she was near enough to him
to whisper,
“It has begun.”
Bowen immediately dragged her away from Morgan, giving her a warning
glare as he did so. Nameless walked resignedly beside him, a slave of
providence. A small tear trickled down her cheek, barely conspicuous
as she bowed her head, avoiding eye contact with the curious
Westerlies crowding about her.
News of Bowen’s upcoming wedding had spread all about the city by the
next morning. Although he was a stranger and the woman with him was
quiet and rarely showed her face, weddings had always been cause for
great excitement in the West. The fact that Bowen was an Easterly
seemed to bother no one. Morgan was the only person who disliked the
man intensely, finding him to be brash and untrustworthy. No doubt
Mildred had fixed him with some sort of enchantment so that he could
easily avoid suspicion. He did not know his son, yet he felt that he
would rather continue living in such a fashion. He would present
himself at the festivities on the grand day, of course, but only in
hopes to speak with the ill-fated bride. In a large crowd, it would be
easy to avoid Bowen and speak to Nameless without being eavesdropped
upon.
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