Two Lost Lambs in the Forest

?Ellie! Ellie? Don?t run so fast! Ellie?? Called out a little boy all of six years old. He broke upon a sunlit pool of light in the Southern Glen?s forest. His sturdy leggings of bleached canvas and brand new tunic and shorts of spun burgundy cotton smeared with mud and the verdant trappings of a little explorer hard at play in the woods. He brushed a few twigs and leaves from his home cute hair of dirty blonde as he moved from the sunlit pool of damp moss and decaying leaves to search bushes and low lying evergreen branches thick with summer time gnats. ?Ellie! C?mon Ellie. Momma and poppa are gonna be mad with us if we don?t get going. Where are you??

?Uh-uh. I ain?t fibbing my spot James. You always cheat at hide-and-seek. We?ll go back to momma and poppa when you find me. Bet you can?t find me before you start getting scared and start crying.? Spoke a voice that came from several bushes on all sides of the small boy.

James flailed his arms in animated frustration hearing his sister?s voice taunting him. ?We been playing for hours Ellie. You always win and I don?t cry Ellie! Poppa said you can?t say that to me! You don?t play fair with hide-and-seek. You got momma?s elf blood in you and I just got poppa?s clumsy human blood in me.? He pouted and crossed his arms as he began to kick at each bush with well worn hobnailed boots.

?Then you better get good at finding me because half-bloods like us have to get better at this stuff.? Ellie?s voice taunted more before a twig snapped to James right. The little boy whirled and leaped into the bushes eliciting a squeal of outrage from Ellie at being caught and her plans and fun foiled. ?No fair! You distracted me James!?

James giggled and stuck out a small finger to point at how scrunched up his sister?s smooth and slowly budding elfin beauty was becoming marred with human anger on her face. ?I?m getting gooder at finding you cause half-bloods gotta get gooder at this stuff. Found you Ellie. Now can we go back to poppa and momma? I don?t like these woods. They always have weird things in them and lots of bugs and scary shadows.?

Ellie sighed and pushed her brother off of her into the thick foliage of a blue berried meag bush and stood, plucking leaves out of her golden hair. She was thin and wispy even at the age of nine, a good sign of the beauty to come and the troubles it would bring for all wanting her. ?You?re getting better, James. Not gooder. Momma would tan your hide to hear you speaking such lowness. Come on, take my hand and we?ll go back. Can?t believe you want to be a Ranger like poppa yet you?re scared of insects and shadows.?

James untangled himself from the branches and broad, jade leaves of the meag bush grabbing hold of his sister?s fair hand with his plain, clumsy human one. He scrunched his face a little at the site of blue splotches on Ellie?s green cotton dress. ?Ellie you got meag berry stains. Momma?s gonna be mad. And I like Rangers. They have horses, ride around all day, use swords and look cool.?

Ellie looked down at her stained dress and made a small sigh. ?Some staining will happen on an outing James. Momma will understand. Rangers do more than just look cool. They have to know how to survive in the woods and handle bugs and shadows. They don?t just use swords either. You should talk to poppa more. C?mon, the picnic is back past those three ash trees . . . ? she paused in her banter. The ash trees she had so carefully kept track of when they had run into the forest a few hours earlier to play were nowhere in sight.

James looked around. ?What ash trees? Just a bunch of evergreens and pine trees Ellie.? He?d tug on her hand. ?I came this way.? He pulled at her, tugging her across the sunny pool of light he?d emerged in before.

Ellie stubbornly dug her heels into the soft earth. ?No James. That?s not the right way. I didn?t come from that direction. I?d remember running past a bunch of evergreens. I came the other way where the Ash trees were. But they aren?t there. They were behind me and you somehow got all turned around and got ahead of me.?

?Ahead of you? I?ve been chasing you Ellie. Been running lots. Calling for you to slow down. Ellie we go back this way don?t we?? James asked as he started to look around the sunny break in the canopy.

?I, well, I don?t know.? Ellie said a bit nervous. She looked at the trees, the soft loamy ground and the sky. She couldn?t tell what directions where what and where they had come from. Had they forgotten their bearings so badly in their frolic and fun? ?Let?s go your way for now James.?

James swallowed a little as he heard Ellie?s consent to follow him. He held onto her hand tight and led her back through the bushes, leaving the pool of sunlight. Time slid by as shadows grew while James and Ellie trekked through the forest, the light of day shifting. Shadows changed and moved about naturally that made James jump and Ellie doubt much of what she could remember of her landmarks. They soon found a large old juniper tree and stopped to rest.

?Ellie, we?ve been walking forever. Can we go back to momma and poppa please? I?m hungry and thirsty.? James whined.

Ellie hugged herself around her waist and continued to look around the darkening forest as the day steadily wore away. ?I know you are James. I?m hungry and thirsty too, but I can?t seem to find the trails. I don?t know how we got so, lost.?

?Lost? Lost!? James said with a small cry. ?We?re lost? I want momma and poppa, Ellie!? He said in a small tantrum, fat tears rolling down his sweaty cheeks.

Ellie crouched by James, pulled him in close to her and tousled his dirty blond hair. ?Hey. No tantrums or tears. Rangers don?t cry. Okay. They think. We aren?t lost . . . just, well, very disoriented.? She said using a half truth momma taught her. ?If we stay calm and maybe just stay here, momma and poppa will find us. I am sure they miss us too and are looking for us now. Poppa can find anyone.?

James seemed comforted by his sister?s care and worked hard to emulate the tough and cool persona of the Rangers he?d so idolized. It was for naught as they both cried a little in panic hearing the first calls of wolves in the forest, stirring from their hot afternoon slumber to hunt in the cool evening. Ellie prodded James to get up and move for the juniper tree in hopes that height would be safer if they were lost for the night. Their tactical retreat was cut short at the rumbling growl of a large cat rudely awaken by the howls among tree limbs. The children stared up in curious fascination watching the slow stalk of a black leopard slinking among the branches, fully aware now that prey had come to its abode.

?James . . . you run. You run as fast you can. You find momma and poppa.? Ellie said, putting her arm out across James chest and making them both back up together. ?Don?t look back. Just run.?

?Ellie you run too. You run too.? James dug his small hands into her green dress.

Both children jumped hearing the soft thump of the predator landing on the dead leaves of the forest floor and watched the power of the beast coil and gather before them at the base of the tree. A large pink tongue licked at its black furred muzzle, yellow eyes glowing in the leaf filtered sunlight. The leopard crouched, silent, a bare hint of a tail flicked as it prepared to spring upon its meal and feast. Ellie swallowed and turned away from the creature. She held James close to her to protect him in some feeble way; her hand coming up to cover James face to shut out their approaching death.

James and Ellie both cried out in terror thinking the leopard was now upon them as they heard a loud roar and angry hiss. The sounds of snapping teeth, growls and howls of a dog were tossed into the pained mewl of a very annoyed and perturbed leopard. Ellie refused to open her eyes hearing a battle wage on for what she believed was the rights of two predators to eat her and her brother. James, already taken with fear and now curious as want of a six year old boy pulled at his sister?s hand to peak at the commotion.

Pitted before him and his sister was the leopard no longer crouched to eat them but backed against the juniper tree, roaring and hissing, black cruel claws swatting at something scruffy and white harassed the large cat mercilessly. James thought at first it was an albino wolf but the more it move and acted it appeared to be an albino German shepherd dog. The white dog snarled and snapped at the leopard, skittered away when claws got too close to its face though more often than not the dog was raked on the flank and hind quarters by those cruel talons. It continued to bark, harass and at any point of misstep from the leopard impart a severe snapping bite to paw, limb, tail or throat.

The leopard, indignant, wounded and rudely disrupted from its easy meal gave ascent to the scruffy dog and thought of better game to hunt elsewhere less guarded and vanished through the bushes. James watched the scruffy dog snort at the vanishing backside of the leopard; then sit on its hind quarters, scratch at its right ear for a moment then went to licking its wounds without a care that it had attacked a leopard. He nudged Ellie who was holding him tight and soaking his tunic with tears and a torrent of sobs.

?Ellie. We?re okay. The doggy helped.? James said.

Ellie shook her head. ?No James. Those are wolves. They?ll eat us too.?

James nudged Ellie in the belly a bit hard and she flinched. She grew a bit angry at how rude James was being with how imminent death was coming and looked up to scold him to take death like a Ranger. She noticed death was really quiet and no biting or clawing had come. Death in fact was rather absent and in its place was a scruffy, white German shepherd that looked a little worse off from the fight. It was just standing there staring at them. The eyes of the German shepherd sparkled like gold coins at the bottom of a wishing well and held an intelligence that seemed to look right through her.

The scruffy white dog lowered its head a bit and skulked forward, timid in gesture, and offered little to no threat as it approached them. James reached out to pet the dog and felt how warm the shaggy, white coat was. His eyes did wander to the bleeding wounds on the dogs flank but they didn?t seem to be as severe as he had thought. The scruffy dog lifted its head to bump at Ellie?s hands to invite pets from her too. Ellie found the courage to pet the white dog that had seemed to save them from being eaten. The howls of hunting wolf packs filtered through the forest and the scruffy dogs head looked away from them. It seemed to wuffle then look at them both with a tilt of its shaggy head. Gently it took hold of the hem of James tunic and tugged at him, pulling him in a direction away from the hunting wolves.

James felt the tug and took Ellie?s hand. ?Ellie, I think the doggy wants to help more.?

Having heard the wolf cries, Ellie was beyond arguing the stupidity of that statement and followed James who was lead by the scruffy white dog. The small band walked through the forest as the light of day faded into deepening dusk. The children fearing their footsteps would falter or that they would trip found that the scruffy white dog seemed to glow just a little lighting their footsteps. As night fell, they finally came upon a stream in the forest and the scruffy white dog let go of James? tunic hem. The children were eager to drink from the stream being thirsty from such a long trek and panic. When they looked up they were alone.

?Ellie? Scruffy is gone.? James said not seeing the white dog anywhere.

Ellie looked about and felt afraid not having the white dog with them to keep them safe. She stood, about to venture out and look for their new found companion when she saw a white square of cloth by the stream piled high with cookies, sandwiches and bottles of juice. She called James over to the miraculous discovery and they both started to eat hungrily, the thought of the missing white dog far from their hungry minds.

As the last the last crumb was eaten, the last drop drank the children heard voices. A lot of voices. Men and women all calling out. ?Ellie! James! Ellie! James! Ellie! James!? They both cried in relief and joy that they were going to be found. They stood up and ran to the sound of the voices calling out to them and were reunited with their mother and father. Their parents were not alone and had lead a small patrol of fifteen friends and Watchmen to find their missing children. Amongst the tears of joyous reunions, concerns relieved and panic ebbing, many asked how they had gotten lost and how they had made it back through such a wild part of the forest.

The children recounted their tail of hide-and-seek, being lost and confused, of being nearly eaten and then they remembered the scruffy white dog that saved them. Those gathered round laughed hearing the tail of the white dog that saved them. Children?s fantasy, hunger and fear making them see things. All had a good laugh and most of the search party left till it was just Ellie, James, their mother and father. The children wept more in relief of being found but James wept more in not being believed that he really saw a scruffy white dog save them.

His father tousled his hair as he crouched down by his son. ?James. Don?t cry when people don?t believe you. Not everyone believes what people say or see.?

James wiped at his eyes. ?You believe me don?t you poppa??

His father smiled at James and picked him up. ?I believe you James. I?ve seen many things as a Ranger. Many things people can?t explain unless they see it for themselves. Maybe you got to see a myth, a totem animal. Remember it one day son. Remember for when you grow up to be a Ranger. Maybe it?ll be your animal to help guide you in the wilds.?

James hugged his father close. ?Do you really think so??

His father laughed heartily. ?You never know son. Let?s go home. You two have had a long day.?

As the family left and the final stirring of humanity faded from the forest, a faint glow of white fur near a clump of meag bushes stirred; sparkling golden eyes shown a moment or two like twin setting suns gazed upon the children taken into safety. Then they vanished as the moon began to rise in the night.

Vigil of Memories

Late spring made Andrew sneeze and cough as the cool air stirred the pollen about park he frequented so often this year in the Dragon?s Gate District. He?d taken up watching children play during the day as a hobby, his tired old bones ached and gave him more than enough to grump at his physician to dare mention walking. He?d rather be reading the latest spell book or working out the latest intricacies of new spells if his hands were still steady, his eyes not clouding and his mind firmer than a softening sponge. Everyone told him that a war mage was a risky but glorious career; full of tales, women, power and fame. Codswhallop in his firm and irascible opinion.

Dull aches shot through his hips as the moist spring air settled in his bones. With a grumbled curse that could change red roses to crying dandelions, he fidgeted and resettled himself on the old park bench, his gnarled hands clutched upon a white birch cane with a silver carved head in the shape and effigy of Magrana, Battle Magus of Winslow Isles. Andrew thought the park benches should be padded, or perhaps nicer, fancier, something more than worn and tired looking like he was. Weathered, used and forgotten, the feelings brought a scowl to his scarred and wrinkled face, wind playing with the few wisps left of his blond hair on his bald pate; his gray eyes thought of the comrades he lost, yet he had survived every war.

He felt a twinge in his chest, the tickle and burn and he rummaged his hand into his old brown robes, once emerald green now worn and leathered in aged velvet and rotting silk. An off white cotton handkerchief was drawn out, the faded color of red once vibrant on it now fading pink. Andrew coughed deeply into with several racking expulsions. His hand drew away and he took a long moment to breathe in and out steadily, clear his fuzzy mind as his wet lungs sought air. His gray eyes met golden eyes with the cut and fire of topazes set in silver rings housed in the quizzical face of a scruffy white German shepherd. They stared at each other for a long moment before Andrew yelled at the dog.

?Out of here, you plague carrying mutt! Get! Get! Get!? He shook his cane to add to his menacing zeal at the white dog.

The white dog wuffled and skittered a few steps away from the old man and the bench. It trotted behind a black trash can and looked around it to watch him, head tilted in quizzical study still.

?I can still see you, you damn mutt!? Andrew shouted out tiredly. ?Fevran.?

He uttered and lifted the cane shakily at the garbage can. A small zap of energy hit the metal and ricocheted into a bush sending shrubbery to flying. The white dog bolted from the trash can beyond the shrubs out of his sight. Andrew gave a satisfied grunt that the mangy mutt was gone. He liked being left alone to just watch. He didn?t need anyone. Didn?t want anyone. Just wanted to be left alone to watch. The children in the park were still about playing and it soothed the ache in his chest and he breathed a little better.

He couldn?t recall when he drifted to sleep on the bench for a short nap, but he was aware of feeling cold. His mind wished he?d had a warm fire to be beside and to hear the sounds of his friends once more. Warmth touched his feet, then thighs and slid up in a close embrace to his chest, down his arms and finally warming his nose and ears. He remembered the cold nights out in the fields where noses and ears never thawed till late summer time.

Andrew woke from his short nap to find the children at play in the park and an unwanted guest that had returned. The white mutt was lying on the bench, its scruffy head rested on its fore paws watching him. His foggy eyes must have been catching the afternoon sun wrong cause he thought the dogs white fur had a slight glow to it. He gave the dog a menacing grump and raised his cane shakily to chase it off again. The white dog saw the cane rise and it rose onto its paws quickly hopping off the bench and skittering back to the trash can for cover. Andrew paused in his threat as he felt the warmth slip from his body like the ebb of the tide as the dog moved from him. The cold stole back up into him and the twinge was back once more having him cough into the old handkerchief once again.

Once the spell of coughing ceased, he looked up from the handkerchief, gasping for air and noticed those golden eyes again staring at his. The warmth of a camp fire was once more soaking into his body, setting every joint and bone to soothing ease. He gave a scowl at the white dog for a long moment.

?Do as you wish mutt. I?m a horrible grump and mean company.? Andrew said wetly.

The white dog just barked once, did a circle or two of its body to amuse him and then hopped up onto the park bench by him and curled up comfortably next to him, head on forepaws, watching the kids play in the park. Andrew watched the dog get comfy next to him and gave a grumbled note of displeasure. He disliked dog hair on his robes but he did enjoy the warmth. He noticed how the dog watched the children play. He leaned back on the park bench and watched them too.

?Often watch kids play at this park, boy?? He asked.

The white dog gave a disgruntled snort and wiggle of distasted. Andrew worked his mouth into thin line.

?Fine. Girl. Girl. Happy now? Hard to tell boys and girls apart with dogs with all that fur on you. So what, you belong to one of the kids out there? Looking for an owner? Lost?? He said.

Andrew was given a silent look from the white mutt that spoke volumes about any thoughts that it was lost or owned.

He gave the scruffy dog a poke in the ribs with a gnarled finger. ?Magdelyn had a mutt like you once. Scrawny thing, ornery cuss too. Why she never got rid of it for a more proper familiar was beyond me. You can?t understand women, especially witches. Have a lot of bizarre notions about the proper course of magic and the like when used for wars. She always tried to play by the good books, be nice, do no harm, avoid bad juju, and she fell first in the wars. She always wanted kids, went on and on about how children were the future and some madness about cycles and circles. Never saw the archers that flanked us and pinned her to the ground like quail.?

The white dog gave a small woof and wuffle at the rib poke and comment about women but its ears canted forward as the old man spoke. Soon those ears were folded back by a gnarled hand that began to stroke its white furred head.

?She would have loved seeing the kids playing in this park. That little blonde there has the same carefree smile and dance Magdelyn had. She wasn?t the only odd one of our small band. She was the tamest by far. Santerlorn the Red was a kook that loved the moons, their ways and paths and quite fond of skinny dipping in the lake under the pretense that full moonlight and bare skin in water was the best way to restore ones energy after a long days battle. We all knew it was just his way of getting as close to the women for quick affairs as possible.

Rumors about the camp say he?d come from a heritage that hid a dark secret. Satyr blood or some sort, so being amorous was quite the way with him. Telling him not to love was like telling a man not to breath or drink or sleep. He was fast with spells, a quick study and could always adapt to the fields every changing danger during war. Yet the dangers of war are not always on the field with spell and sword, arrow and spear. No, he was found after a nights hold over at an inn, poisoned in an empty bed that he?d taken a girl or two into that night. Enough coin will buy anyone?s loyalty and a man?s life. He was in such a twisted, agonized state in his final repose that it was a cruel poison used upon him. He was full of life and snuffed without any chance to defend himself. He?d be the one out there that keeps taking the ball away trying to get some of the brunettes to chase him.? Andrew chuckled and covered his lips with another cough or two.

The hand stroking the white mutt had slowed until it weakly perched upon its head. A small wiggle forward and the dog laid its shaggy head in his lap. He looked down at the dog with a bit of amusement.

?Getting pushy and too cozy are we? At least you have better matters than Erin. Son of a cook, that boy was. Rotund as his father?s cook pot and noisier than an ogre after a large sampling of cabbage and beans. Social graces of a gully dwarf as well but a natural at Geomancy. He could turn the battlefields to quagmires in seconds, bog down whole armies. He had a love and passion for herbology like no one else I knew. You could sniff that grass and wet it mutt and he?d tell you what you just ruined. We could talk on end for nights on the various cultures of loam weeds and hops used for various pipe smokes and brewmeisters. He was always telling me the right type of leaf to get for my pipe at a fraction of a price.

Had he not been such a robust lad, I could have held onto his hand longer. No one saw the avalanche coming along the mountain side, then again it was not natural, and the enemy had once again paid for our whereabouts. He was thrown off his mule and over the side of the cliff trail. I was on foot, my horse had thrown a shoe and I was giving it light treatment. Even then, I barely caught his hand, looked into his brown eyes and heard him casually say, ?Just remember Andrew, it?s the Tippum leaf you want, not the Birnum leaf.? And like that he slid out of my hands into the crags and chasms of the Royver Crags. I always imagined he?d be the child over there that?s always carrying a small box of treats and never really playing at all with the other.? Andrew said.

The petting had stopped and he just sat there watching the children, forgetting the scruffy companion keeping him warm. His gray eyes misted some as he thought more.

?They say battle mages live grand, glorious lives that are short lived, full of fame and glory and full of songs and lore. They never speak of the old battle mages. The ones that live, that never died in battle and are never remembered in songs and lore. You have to be dead for that. If you live, you just sit, and age and watch more and more people fade from you. Magrana, the Battle Magus of Winslow Isles told me on my first day of training that I?d have a lot of potential. That I?d make a name for myself and die gloriously. I was assigned to his battle unit personally yet, here I set rotting away. Magrana, the best mage we had died in his tent on the last week of our campaign by a deadly snake bite. He?d lived through countless wars, traded spells with the best of them and in the end, a lowly serpent got him while he slept.

I returned home that year, the wars over, the only mage left of the Winslow 1st Wand, the Staff of Magrana in my hand, the ghosts of my four colleagues as my only companions. Though naturally I couldn?t let their memories go by the way side. What monster would I be if I did? Magdalyn was sung of for many years in the chapels and halls as the Saint of Peace and Protection dying on a bridge to hold back the hordes as wounded were pulled to safety. Santerlorn lives forever as the mage that bested the Black Cloak in a duel securing victory at the loss of his life after the last blows left him cursed to solidify to stone. Erin is now the patron Saint of Eternal Slumber and Rest as they sing heralds of how he collapsed and entire mountain complex upon the western army of the Mordala Empire.

Magrana?s tale though was a piece of work. To this day he is sung and lauded as the Magus that continues the eternal battle between good and evil keeping the Ember Druid at bay from entering the Winslow Isles realms. As for I, Andrew Olenton, Mage 1st Class, Veteran of the Burning Wars, Sole Survivor of the Winslow 1st Wand, am nothing. Just a man that did his duty, and was unremarkable and unable to save the greater heroes from their doom.?

Andrew felt coolness begin to seep into his toes as if he?d begun to wade into cold water for a dip. He kept watching the children play as the white mutt nuzzled his hand gently that was upon its head.

?None of us had asked for glory or fame. We just wanted to do our duties but for the most part we just wanted to enjoy life again like children at play. We?d often talk what it?d be like to be kids once more, how our childhoods were like, what we?d do over again had we the ancient power to cheat fate. The irony is, I get the feeling I?m watching the memories of my comrades out there every day at play, for who could mistake the joy and exuberance a child has as universal to what we all want to feel as children or the aged pining to be young again. I do not envy my friends, they were spared the cruelty of living long lives dealing with minds warped and enfeebled by horrors beyond description. They were spared watching their bodies grow old frail with the rot of death. For that is what is happening every day I come here. Slowly more of me dies upon this handkerchief, then I will be gone and no more. I will have no song, no hymns, no stories, just a marker and a faded memory on the pages of history.? He said.

The scruffy dog just wuffled and nudged the cane in his hand then licked at his hands. It looked from him to the kids, then back to him again. Andrew watched the scruffy dog act oddly and felt the coldness move up to his knees then he noticed his hands were young again, no longer gnarled and aged. He felt the pains of age and time melt from him and he stood. He was shorter, younger and in clothes of a child. He felt he had nodded away into sleep again, the coldness he still felt at his knees, but if this was a dream, he wanted to enjoy it. He left the bench, the white dog forgotten as he left the cane, the sorrows, the memories all abandoned to play with the children. The white dog remained on the bench, on guard with the cane and the napping body of an old man in brown mage robes.

Andrew must have played for several hours with the children, reveling in the games of youth once more, showing off little magic tricks he had learned as a child and having a fondness to be a travelling magician performing for others. As they played he could see the other children was familiar to him, a laugh her, talk about nature there, herbs and tobacco leaf dancing amongst conversations of cookies and candy. Even the false bragging of little boys trying to be leaders reminding him of Santerlorn and Magrana. He must have been in a dream for they all smiled at him while playing.

?You?ll be playing with us a lot more, Andrew. Soon. Really soon. We?ll be waiting here at the park for you when you?re ready to play some more. Everything moves in circles and cycles.? They all said to him.

Andrew looked at them all with confusion and he felt the coldness was past his knees and up to his chest now. He couldn?t feel his hands. He was no longer with the children. He was on the old worn park bench, watching them play instead as if they?d never interacted with him. The campfire warmth was flagging and failing in keeping him warm and he shivered, but with his full mind back he understood some things now that Magdalyn had said. He felt ashamed for calling her crazy and dumb. Numbly he moved a weak arm to take the cane and brought it closer to the white mutt. He gazed down at it for a long moment.

?Such a fool I was. Such a cruel man I am for chasing you off too. I know why now I come to this park. I know why now that you are here. Take it. Take it. You know what to do with it. When you find the boy, tell him he should find . . . he should find . . . he should an Arlo Magico Magician kit. Tell him to never give up . . . on his dreams of entertaining people. That he has an audience at this park . . .? He said softly.

The late afternoon felt too cold for a spring day as Andrew shivered a few moments more. The white scruffy dog pressed close to him for warmth. His gray eyes watched the sun setting on the park, the children all called to their homes for supper, leaving the park quiet and lonely save him and the white dog on the bench. With his last breath he uttered words into the cooling evening breeze.

?Sing the tales of Andrew Olenton . . . Saint of Friendships and Keeper of Tales . . . may he . . . forever . . . be . . . remembered.?

Andrew saw no more sunsets as he felt the cold completely wash over and take him under like undertow for a moment or two. The white dog sat up on the bench and gave the old man?s cheeks several nuzzles that brought no response. Its golden eyes watched the body then trailed sky ward as a few stars glimmered in the new born twilight. The park was filled with three, long sentry howls sounding like a lone guard finally calling and end to a sacred watch. The white mutt took the cane in muzzle and leaped off of the park bench. A Watch patrol was coming to the sound of a howling dog and it knew the mages body would be found and handled. Head bowed for a moment in respect, the mutt took and left the park.

Three days passed and a mother was sitting on the old bench at that park in Dragon?s Gate District. She was watching her son play with the other kids and performing magic tricks with a cane of white birch with a head of silver carved in the form of some magician. It was her son?s 13th birthday today and they had found gifts for him on their doorstep. They had found nothing dangerous about the gifts and soon found to their surprise he was gifted with items he?d always had dreams about as a small child. Now he was doing disappearing rabbits, card tricks and having the time of his life. She never did understand why her son Bill Olerton picked the stage name Andrew Olenton. Perhaps it was a new hero in a book he read. She was just happy he was happy with his friends and succeeding in something where her son usually failed in normal childhood hobbies. Her son seemed finally complete.

The scruffy white dog panted some as the chase broke off and the magic tricks began. It sat a long moment to watch the children. Its golden eyes seeing the real truth as it glanced up to the sky where the stars were sleeping during the day. Several stars may be dimmer in the heavens but they were brighter on the mortal realms once more. Scratching its neck the white dog trotted away amidst the laughter and delight of children entertained by a budding stage magician. The Circles and cycles moved in the celestial clock of life.