Small Realities

Inside the mind of Lance Schonberg

Thorvald’s Wyrd 097

The rumble grew louder with each passing heartbeat.  An avalanche had begun, and any such could only be an act of malice.

A dozen stairs ahead, a jagged outcrop might provide some shelter.  A dozen behind, a hollow place might serve the same purpose.  But Icewind’s assault was well-timed.  Thorvald slid over to stand next to the chest-high wall of the step.

With a quick prayer of forgiveness, he flipped Gungnir and drove its head as deep into the ice step as strength would allow then knelt, wrapping his arms around the godspear, and waited for the crush of ice.

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