“You are either very wise,” said Twirl, “or very cruel.”
The unicorn’s long lashes swept over their cheek. “Why can I not be both?”
plotthoundmag.com/at-the-edge-...
“You are either very wise,” said Twirl, “or very cruel.”
The unicorn’s long lashes swept over their cheek. “Why can I not be both?”
plotthoundmag.com/at-the-edge-...
"You want to press your snout into the wound, but have just enough man-sense left in your dog-mind to hold back and stay still, your ears tucked down low..."
plotthoundmag.com/hound-of-ann...
"You want to press your snout into the wound, but have just enough man-sense left in your dog-mind to hold back and stay still, your ears tucked down low..."
plotthoundmag.com/hound-of-ann...
"The name they had for him, or what passed for one, was a low tut and a breath through the nose, followed by a little rasp. It meant, as near as he could translate, 'Mild Fish and Linen.'"
plotthoundmag.com/mild-fish-an...
"The name they had for him, or what passed for one, was a low tut and a breath through the nose, followed by a little rasp. It meant, as near as he could translate, 'Mild Fish and Linen.'"
plotthoundmag.com/mild-fish-an...
"I saw. I know. Night grows hot. Egg cracks embers. Flames sprout wings and a phoenix hatches awake."
plotthoundmag.com/flames-sprou...
"I saw. I know. Night grows hot. Egg cracks embers. Flames sprout wings and a phoenix hatches awake."
plotthoundmag.com/flames-sprou...
"Man wanted the sun, and he’d have sucked it dry, turned it to tall towers of glass and more machines. So I swallowed it, to protect it from the Man.”
plotthoundmag.com/after-a-wolf...
"Man wanted the sun, and he’d have sucked it dry, turned it to tall towers of glass and more machines. So I swallowed it, to protect it from the Man.”
plotthoundmag.com/after-a-wolf...
"We are both shadows of each other, but we are also ebb and flow, binary stars forever circling, both shining just as bright."
plotthoundmag.com/in-the-sea-o...
"We are both shadows of each other, but we are also ebb and flow, binary stars forever circling, both shining just as bright."
plotthoundmag.com/in-the-sea-o...
"So, why, sister, are you here, with your milky feathers, your downy breast, your songbird pleading for more time, more love, more sameness?"
plotthoundmag.com/your-birdson...
"So, why, sister, are you here, with your milky feathers, your downy breast, your songbird pleading for more time, more love, more sameness?"
plotthoundmag.com/your-birdson...
"You step out of the skin around your legs and kick it off like you are a tree and it was bark you had to scrape off."
plotthoundmag.com/who-is-wrong...
"You step out of the skin around your legs and kick it off like you are a tree and it was bark you had to scrape off."
plotthoundmag.com/who-is-wrong...
"Always together; always side by side. I thought sometimes it would be more pleasant to be Eight, or One, and have some privacy to one side at least."
plotthoundmag.com/animapod-by-...
"Always together; always side by side. I thought sometimes it would be more pleasant to be Eight, or One, and have some privacy to one side at least."
plotthoundmag.com/animapod-by-...
"Ren dreams in her pyrobed for three years as the ship diverts its course, travels to the next destination. She has died six hundred and seventeen times."
plotthoundmag.com/to-dream-of-...
"Ren dreams in her pyrobed for three years as the ship diverts its course, travels to the next destination. She has died six hundred and seventeen times."
plotthoundmag.com/to-dream-of-...
"Long had she lived, and long would she yet, she served London’s people and ferried their dead. The form of a cat served her well, for death should tread delicately, quiet and prudent."
plotthoundmag.com/death-walks-...
"Long had she lived, and long would she yet, she served London’s people and ferried their dead. The form of a cat served her well, for death should tread delicately, quiet and prudent."
plotthoundmag.com/death-walks-...
"In the end, every story—mine, yours—is a fox story, both untrustworthy and essential."
plotthoundmag.com/foxes-are-to...
"In the end, every story—mine, yours—is a fox story, both untrustworthy and essential."
plotthoundmag.com/foxes-are-to...
"I will rear, kick, drive you back if you attempt to get too near. Instinct is a powerful magic that flows through the winding rivers of battlescars on my flanks."
plotthoundmag.com/this-too-is-...
"I will rear, kick, drive you back if you attempt to get too near. Instinct is a powerful magic that flows through the winding rivers of battlescars on my flanks."
plotthoundmag.com/this-too-is-...
"He was her murderer, but he was also her husband, and it was his duty to convey her bones to the Brazier of Rites and burn them so her spirit could enter the Field of Reeds."
plotthoundmag.com/he-came-star...
"He was her murderer, but he was also her husband, and it was his duty to convey her bones to the Brazier of Rites and burn them so her spirit could enter the Field of Reeds."
plotthoundmag.com/he-came-star...
"Her voice is a thundering, a wooing.
It grays into a many-beaked murder
eating the hearts of mortal man."
plotthoundmag.com/when-the-cro...
"Her voice is a thundering, a wooing.
It grays into a many-beaked murder
eating the hearts of mortal man."
plotthoundmag.com/when-the-cro...
"It was a shamble type of eve, the moon bulging quiet and hush-hush up in the sky. I had a full pouch and none was buying, not even the raccoons tussling in the big cans."
plotthoundmag.com/respect-the-...
"It was a shamble type of eve, the moon bulging quiet and hush-hush up in the sky. I had a full pouch and none was buying, not even the raccoons tussling in the big cans."
plotthoundmag.com/respect-the-...
"Something was taking them. The rumors had been spread by her lover who had seen fields of the dead, their horns taken, their skins removed, their meat left to rot."
plotthoundmag.com/the-buffalo-...
"Something was taking them. The rumors had been spread by her lover who had seen fields of the dead, their horns taken, their skins removed, their meat left to rot."
plotthoundmag.com/the-buffalo-...
"Where dusk frays into threads of night,
a serpent spills from fissured stone,
his body a gutter, ice-glimpse of blackness
like obsidian vine drunk on night’s wine-light."
plotthoundmag.com/cold-blood-b...
"Where dusk frays into threads of night,
a serpent spills from fissured stone,
his body a gutter, ice-glimpse of blackness
like obsidian vine drunk on night’s wine-light."
plotthoundmag.com/cold-blood-b...