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She stood very still, listening intently. The wind ruffled small strands of her hair and whispered ancient leaf songs as it flowed and danced through the trees. Beside her the Rune-Horse, ears pricked forward, was quiet as well. Exploring the faint, twisting pathways of the ancient grove, they'd gone much further than usual today.
Suddenly, there it was again, the sound that'd brought them to attention in the first place. Distant, very faint, yet unmistakable, it was the sound of someone singing.
The Shaelah people had a most particular affinity for trees, possessing an understanding of them that went far beyond ordinary folks knowledge, or interest .
Red Bear nodded in agreement. His people simply could not afford to stay home in their lodges like small children any longer.
The land would be stained dark with chaos and many deaths before they'd see peace again he feared.
Granny Trivet stepped out onto the rough boards of the porch. Intent on retrieving the star-patterned quilt she'd left hanging there to air, she paused, listening, attentive. A peculiar feeling permeated the night air.
Hanging like a sideways lantern, a bright half moon graced the southern sky, lighting little puffs of scuttling clouds. On the side of the ridge above the creek, small patches of fog drifted ghost-like among the maples and poplars.
Adding their calls to the untamed magic of the night, a pair of Great Horned owls hoo-hooed softly back and forth.
" Perhaps stories began as a way to keep us from feeling so alone in the dark. "