“Rains of Craifa, Figure 1 – Girl with Shavlas” – published in Straeon 1: Malady Fare
In the dream she was standing behind a curtain of rain. Her hair—longer than it really was, he thought after waking—streamed down her shoulders like strands of dark moss floating in a river, her skin glistened with an uncanny radiance. He wanted to reach for her—to touch her hand. But he was on a boat, and it was moving slowly away, down the wide brown river, rippled with rain. He pressed against the railing and reached toward her, but could not touch her. She watched him, her gold eyes full of joy; she didn’t understand that he was going—that the boat was taking him away.
Then there were ribbons of strange, rich colors—orange and red and brown—dancing across the sky, and across a ground that flowed like water under his feet. An enormous white bird, poised on stilt-like legs, graceful and refined in every detail, was watching him out of the round yellow eye in its long narrow head, crowned with a fan of white feathers. And she was beside him again, naked but for a swathe of brown cloth, thick and soft like velvet, wrapped loosely around her slight form.
“The Memory of Trees” – published in LC-39, Issue 2
There was much that Silas Ash had forgotten and had to remember, slowly, painstakingly. His name was one thing that had never left him; like a staff that he could lean upon, it was something solid of which he could always be certain. He had eventually remembered almost everything, so perhaps it was trivial; there had never been any question that he knew who he was. Yet the familiarity of the two words—Silas Ash—was comforting, and the simplicity of the fact: he knew his name. But now he did not know where he was.
He was standing in the middle of an empty road, in a strange and silent forest. The trees around him were brownish-pink, and he saw that their long needles were like those of pines, only thicker. The trunks and branches were smooth and scarcely darker than the needles, so that the trees looked singularly molded, as if made of clay or flesh. Although they were shaped like pines, they made Silas think of sea anemones. The branches moved: rocking, shifting, nodding and falling, as if answering to a gentle breeze. But he did not feel a breeze. The air felt warm and very still.