Carrick was cold. In the windblown bluster of the small glade a certain wizard was beginning to grow stroppy. His time-battered robe was proving to be exceptionally draughty and, after four weeks spent travelling in panic, the patch lined material was beginning to resemble a brown quilt long in needing of a cleansing flame or … Continue reading Aya and Carrick Part 3: Why Wizards Hate Camping →