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    16 Results in the "Bear House Serials" category

    The Lion & The Owl (45)
    • XXX: The Morning Diversion Cover
      by — Skipio wakes before the sun, his habit since coming home. The frigid lake arouses his blood, and he floats upon its black stillness, lamenting that the coming winter will force his swim routine indoors. He strokes to the porch, its slick balustrade heavy with moss, and hoists himself into the chilly air. Streaking quickly into his room, he stands before the wall hearth’s roiling flame and dries himself with a fresh towel, courtesy of Welletrix. The blond Gaul reappears with a steaming water bowl…
    • XXIX: Nucum Messis Cover
      by — Long before the human curse, a colossal vent erupted, flooding the vast icy landscape with its molten blood. The searing ooze cooled and, with time, became the blackest, most fertile soil. A cauldron valley is all that remains of Vulcan's fiery child, its majestic crown now a half-moon stretch of peaks that cast shadows a mile wide. Dawn’s first light creeps over the range, its gentle warmth felt throughout the plantation. Southern winds soon follow, catching the village procession on their descent,…
    • XXVIII – The Lion Roars Cover
      by — The villa and its neighboring urbana sit upon a plateau in the heart of an ancient caldera, its half-moon crown veiled by a lush blanket of oak forests. Minor crops and grazing meadows share this upland, surrounded by a majestic valley of orchards, vineyards, and groves. Three high walls adorned with vibrant murals enclose the village, with a long two-story housing unit making up the fourth. Skipio lived in those dorms for a time after Father blamed their comfortable villa for his lack of work…
    • XXVII – The Owl in Residence Cover
      by — Nothing signifies the cruelty of fauna more than a Roman rooster. Taller than a newborn child, the motley-plume monster slips through a crack in the larder door, head bobbing with every step. It loiters about the pre-dawn darkness before idling near the hearth where the ashes remain warm. It is day three—this cocker’s last day on the planet. With cautious deliberation, it saunters to the lectern, yet before it can raise its feathery head for a sunrise squawk, long fingers snatch its slender neck. A…
    • XXVI – The Hurting Cover
      by — Welletrix is no stranger to living well. His ribs press to the couch, reminding him of the triclinium in his boyhood home. He grieves its loss to tribal ambition, and Villa Servi, with its many patrician comforts, proves a hurtful reminder of the easy life his grandfather’s wealth had provided. With a spindly frame and long white beard, his grandfather personified wisdom. His lavish roundhouse, perched high on a lofty foundation, had been little Welle’s sanctuary. Unlike the village boys fighting for…
    • XXV – The Meat’s Bath Cover
      by — Under the half-moon’s gentle glow, Niko had tossed a lean muscle cut from the hog’s backbone onto one of his leather mats, this one layered with a heavy dusting of sea salt, crushed peppercorns, and bits of ground cumin. He turned the meat over this spice blanket as if it were one of his marble rolling pins, then swaddled it tight like a gifted wine. At midmorning, the spice-crusted tenderloin lay on the preparation table. The chubby cook sliced three strips up its girth, leaving a healthy thumb-length…
    • XXIV – The Morning Task Cover
      by — The lake glistens, its placid surface casting sunlight in a narrow path to the wet porch, the shallow water over its tiles giving way to the kitchen. A comforting warmth envelops the space from sunrise to sunset, emanating from a majestic oven nestled in the back corner. Its plump stack extends through the ceiling, and on its face is a masterful carving of Vesta, her arms laden with a bountiful harvest. Below her, the oven’s mouth beckons, where the hearth’s breath forms an uneven glow, and metal…
    • XXIII – The Major Domo Cover
      by — The tarn beside Villa Servi is a typical alpine splash, its airless depths never mingling with the surface water, yet Lady Vita insists it shimmers like the Adriatic when the sun is just right. Welletrix the Veragros knows nothing of the sea, let alone one named Adriatic, but he’s seen his share of lifeless lakes. Caeso and Optio laze on the front porch until he disrupts their tranquility with an authoritative bark. The house cats laying with them are immune, their laziness forgiven after nightly…
    • XXII – The Lady of the House Cover
      by — In the populous list of ills women must endure, shame comes written in the darkest ink. Lucia Vita Servia is a petite sort with wide hips and an ample bosom. Her large eyes, far too blue for Roman tastes, stem from ages-old Gallic blood, the kind tainting many a provincial household in the Alps. Welletrix, a reedy Helvetian sent home by her brother some years past, stands at the threshold of her room holding a steaming mug. “May I come in?” he asks, and when she nods, he enters and places the mulled…
    • XXI – The Spectator Cover
      by — Aedan wakes to a gentle song of slapping water. Household goods and jars surround him, but they restrict less than the tight ropes binding his legs. He tugs at the manacles around his wrists and, with a caterpillar’s skill, gets to his feet. His toes warm in the small band of light cast from a narrow slit above the door. Hopping toward it, he gets as close as his chains allow and presses his forehead to the opening. Mossy fish stink tickles his nose, and looking down reveals a wheel motionless on…
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