The Lost

Angel was the only one who still spoke the old language. And ‘spoke’ was a very loose interpretation.

For the longest time, she thought is was just something she made up in her head. The Lonngdaax tongue was not so much a language as it was an odd collection of vocal ticks and whistles strung together with low grunts and a humming noise that came from the very back of one’s throat.

Still, here at the trial, the particular point of law was complex enough that the leaders felt the need to have the laws read from the scrolls. To read and interpret the law correctly was everything. Even the smallest errant click could change the verdict and Tildie could die.

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