Spret

The spret releases her cuff and lets herself eddy on the wind, deep in thought. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The spret drops down beside her, flying just beside her ear, wingbeats strangely loud. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The spret flits between snowflakes, those that come too near melting before they can touch her. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The spret crosses her arms and turns up her nose at the insult. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The spret darts to and fro, then hovers four feet above the dank castle floor. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The flutter of wings again, and the spret appears, the tiny woman no bigger than a hummingbird flitting from side to side three feet in front of her, silver wings a gray blur in the storm-shadowed wood. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The spret gave her nose a tiny kiss and then stared into her eyes, only inches from her face. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The spret emerges from the shadows, from the crook of the branch, grim-eyed and heavyhearted. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

Blessed are the deade which do dye in the lorde/euẽ so saieth the spret/that they rest from their labours. ❋ Peter Martyr (N/A)

It mos 'shteenk me out of de shtore, an' de pollies nearly sneeze dere fedders off, but it shtopt de spret, an '_it's cureenall de seek ones_, an' I het a cold in de het, ❋ Woods Hutchinson (1896)

It is called Gavin Muir; and, though lonely, and covered with spret and heather, exhibits some objects which merit the attention of the traveller in the wilderness. ❋ John Mackay Wilson (1819)

_Sprit, spret_, a tough-rooted plant something like rushes, jointed-leaved rush. ❋ Robert Burns (1777)

Wings a blur, Rielle comes up so close that Rose can see every detail of the spret’s narrow features, those violet eyes ablaze. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

“You must,” the spret said, darting toward the king’s chamber door and then back again, pointing at her. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

The spret remembers the sound of the infant Rose’s laughter, has watched her grow up, has been her tender comfort and her wise counsel all her life, a tiny maternal voice for a girl whose mother had died before ever beholding her daughter’s face. ❋ Christopher Golden (2010)

Page 223 greatest of the burden lay on me, and a few of my particular friends, I was furnished with a ship of two hundred tunnes, and another of fiftie: But ere I had sailed one hundred and twentie leagues, she brake all her Masts, pumping each watch fiue or six thousand strokes; onely her spret-saile remained to spoone before the winde, till we had re-accommodated a Iury-mast to returne for Plimoth, or founder in the Seas. ❋ Unknown (1624)