Truly All Fanworks

Eventually they arrived, and Echeleb and Dernodhos ushered Anniavas in.  Dernodhos found an old thin pallet somewhere and unrolled it on the floor, made him lie down with Limral—who had immediately perked up and started sniffing the air—and went and found them a heavy piece of cloth to use as a blanket.  The frayed and ragged edges and complex, cut-off pattern made it look as if it had once been part of a larger tapestry.  It was beautifully woven, but singed dark in places, where fire must have touched it.
    “What’s this?” Anniavas asked, sleepy and curious—at least it was something to focus on other than his current fears.
    Dernodhos paused, running her fingers along it, with an expression on her face he hadn’t seen before.  “A memory,” she said.“Of a story from long ago.”  She ruffled his hair gently.  “I’ll tell you about it another time.”

-- The Mirror Crack'd, Chapter Seven, Without the Hands of a Healer

A series of perfect drabbles about Dernodhos's blanket.