A 100-word chapter of a 1,000-word story. Part one here.
He must be more than man, she thought. His voice was more fitting of sunbirds and divine courtyards than of minstrel man walking common earth.
And more; his age, his youth—how many years had he walked this earth, and still so fresh of face?
“You’ll outlive me, shan’t you?”
“In all likelihood. It happens,” he said, in lightly flaming lilt.
“And you’re fine?”
“And you’ll be fine…?”
“Of course. I’m always fine,” he said. Face flashing with sorrow, he took up his lute and played a cheerful tune.
To be continued.