I am fast and furiously at work writing book five, but I’m going to take a little break here and give you the results of my imagination + five minutes + a few seconds more after the timer went off + these three words:
strap, shower, burn,
The spring shower broke, and Temerin was drenched to the bone in less than five minutes. After ten minutes he gave up trying to pretend he was going to get out of this with a semblance of dignity, and sludged through the mud with long, weary steps. The slow burn of dissatisfaction tuned into resentment, turned to simmering anger. That he, the son of the king, should be wandering about in the wilderness, alone and unattended, while some upstart drove about in the prince’s carriage…
Temerin ground his teeth, and was so involved in his fantasy of revenge he almost missed it. In fact, he walked three steps past it before he stopped, sure something was out of place. He half turned, eyes gazing at the red bag hanging from a single strap out of a small tree. Temerin looked right, then left, searching for the owner of the bag, before he went to investigate.
It was very light, and at first he thought it was empty. He reached farther down, and his fingers encountered a small object. He pulled it out, his vaguely curious expression morphing into shock as he beheld what he had found.
“This ought to make my day a little more interesting,” he said aloud, admiring the black sorcerer’s gem he now held in his possession.