THE STORYTELLER

Had the sun suffered a mortal injury, never to rise from its sleeping mat again? At this fragile moment, the storyteller donned a black cape and moved into the shadows at the far edge of the plaza. A barrage of loud cracks and pops burst from the fire. Acrid smoke clouds filled the plaza. When the smoke cleared, the body was gone, and the storyteller was revealed. The hooded black robe obscured his features but couldn’t disguise his imposing height.

The storyteller was welcomed in every village, and his arrival might restore hope to a village besieged by witchcraft. A trusted elder, the storyteller knew the history of every clan and wielded tremendous power…

FROM CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The moonlight crept up Threatening Rock and spread to where a ghostly silhouette perched at the edge of the overlook. Indistinct curves became lines and angles before metamorphosing into the shape of a man huddled against the cold. As the moonlight reached the shadowed figure, it stepped away from the cliff with the economy of movement of those who have spent their lives traveling. Despite the many layers of winter clothing, there was no mistaking the angular figure of the storyteller, tall and thin. Unerringly, the storyteller moved into the shadows, coming to rest where the trickster was concealed.


 
     




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