The Green Man

Miriam first met the Green Man less than a week out of her mother’s womb. Her father swaddled her in the same linen cloth he’d been brought in by his father. The flax for that linen had been grown, retted, scutched, and heckled by famous druidess [her name] when she was just a student. Now—old enough to be mated and a mother herself—she came to tell him she was the last. He would never again meet another decendent of Laux.

I was possible the Green Man already knew this. It was possible her grandfather or her father had known it and had been preparing the Green Man for the revelation for years. She didn’t think so.

Worse, she wouldn’t have time to prepare him properly before she left for Kek.

I’m forcing this and getting distracted by the research part, and I can feel a night of screwing around brewing.

151 words on day 708