All Chapters of Reapers Of Suffering: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Tamir drank the cold milk brought from the cellar and wondered how it did not curdle as soon as he touched the dishes. Such rage bubbled up in my chest... The girl looked at the sorcerer, and he felt how she was numb with fear. But he didn’t even frighten me, and he deliberately conducted a private conversation with his mother. “Hold it,” he returned the krinka to the young mistress. - Don't be afraid. Your father will rest in peace and will not return to the house. With these words, the learner took the bundle from the hands of the boy who came to the rescue and said: You are now the head of the house. Father's grave under the floorboard behind the stove. That is his concern for you. Spend money wisely. The boy nodded, but his face was filled with astonishment. “Show me off,” the sorcerer said to the mistress of the house without turning around. She hurriedly jumped up and rushed after her, throwing on her sheepskin coat. In the entryway, the prisoner turned to the pale, frig

- Lesanka! - the dungeon was lit up by the bright light of a torch, and somewhere in the neighboring kutu an angry growl full of flour was heard. - Get out! The grate creaked as Veud pulled it towards him. The prisoner blinked. After sitting in the dark for a long time, the radiance of the fire cut the eyes weaned from the light. “Daren stood up for you before the head,” Vyud said, hastily tidying up the felt that had served the prisoner. - She says, they say, what to take from a girl-fool, she has already received her own, she has been fermenting for several days, it’s time to know the honor, otherwise, they say, everyone is busy with business, she alone is lying on her sides. So Ned blessed you to clean up the dead and the dead. He says you have to scrub the floors there for four weeks. Let's go, it's cold here, passion! Both hurried to the exit. The girl wandered from the casemate, in which she stank of prel from head to toe, and thought what bliss it was to stretch her stiff l

The days spent between nightmares and reality slightly dulled Lesana's black longing. The girl got up and began to clean the closet. - Did you get up? - the old woman, who returned with a bucket of icy water, was surprised. - Got up... - Come, come here, wash yourself here. The student suddenly said bitterly: - You're messing around with me. Useless me. Worthless. The grandmother put her hands on her hips and asked caustically: - She invented it, al suggested who? - Itself. What kind of howl am I if I couldn’t fight back?! the girl suddenly cried out. Karga chuckled. – Howl... What kind of howl are you? You are a follower. About last year, you were only taught to jump and fall, to wave sticks, to pull the bowstring. In the autumn, they only began to mix with each other. And for the time being, you don’t know how to own your Gift at all. Howl... will say too! She sat down on the bench, wiping her sweaty forehead with the corner of her handkerchief. Lesana clenched her fists

The climber has come. Severe, with frosts and snowstorms. For days on end, outside the walls of the Citadel, the wind howled, whined, whistled and beat, sweeping loose loose snowdrifts to the foot of the fortress. But Lesana still lived in the dungeons, rarely getting out to the surface. Daren, enraged by her clumsiness and inability, imposed a double duty on the novice, turning her into a second Nurlisa. Now she, too, carried firewood all day long, washed, rubbed, drowned. Here it is today... The girl slammed the casemate grate shut and threw the dirty rag into the bucket. Phew ... All hands are pissed and cracked, the skin has become like a washcloth! But today, even the dead to scrub. And just try not to wash somewhere, Daren will instantly appear, poke his nose at a poorly done job. He, apparently, had already decided for himself that the student Kleskha was not capable of anything other than scrubbing the floors. Well, let. In the end, the usual women's work. However, this was

She raced through the blizzard. Gusts of wind burned his face, prickly snow beat on his head and shoulders. Oh, how she ran! Faster. Faster Faster! The hunter's blood boiled in her veins. The fugitive raced like a wild beast, but it seemed to her that she was dragging along. Several times she jumped up to the white blizzard sky, exposing her flaming forehead and cheeks to the snow, and sent a call to her flock. They must know that she is alive and that there are hunters from the Citadel with her. The flock must get away from the round-up. And she will catch up. Now or in a few days. The main thing is that she is alive. She and her child. The precious bundle pulled back his hands. The walker stopped several times. She frantically caught her breath and looked into a serene sleepy face. A son. Her son! Alive! Joy gave strength, spurred on like a whip, and the woman again rushed away from the gloomy bulk of the Citadel, which was left behind. Winter nights are long. She will be far awa