ark, " she

an I go out and take a loo

then rounded the house. He saw two large, black bulls, but they didn't so much as notice his presence. He walked to the back of the

across the sky. The eastern horizon was turning orange. Wind ruffled his hair. He quickly s

ew that his brother was going to be upset, too, but the nagging desire to be a man, to play an active role in helping th

louds had passed, but there were streaks of gray that seemed painted into the expanse high overhead. Larson then saw torchl

was a path that led to a very small clearing where sometimes the children played hide and seek. He located the path, snuck into the clearing, and stopped at the small pine at its center. A few notches, initials, and

estiny. He was Larson Ross, son of Mathew Ross, a soldier. Courage was in his blood, somewhere.

nown or uncharted regions, it's imperative to leave a trace in order to

y're cunning and intelligent. They don't blunder or leave

ere was enough visible soil. Finally, it became too dark to see, and he knew he was far enough in to strike the flint and light his torch wit

round the house, frantically screaming for his brother to kill them, but that wasn't going to happen this time; Larson had steeled hims

going to be like if he really found the reaper. Before his ruminations solidified, he thought he heard music,

rrowed his brow. Then, the sound washed over him again. It beckoned; it called him deep

a woman's voice. It didn't say anything specific, or intelligible, though. By then, his feet were moving of their own ac

but the other Larson, the dreaming Larson, wanted to keep moving. He thought of his dad's disappearance, his brother venturing off to find a mage in the city, Mr. Thatcher

nexplicably, Larson thought of the fact that he didn't know his mother; th