“You know how I have a lot of secrets?” Since Faren’s recovery from the poison I’d given him – he said he didn’t blame me, but I’d never stop feeling guilty for his months of coma and resulting amnesia – I hadn’t filled him in on everything he’d known before his memory loss. I’d been honest about keeping things from him, which helped my conscience a little, but it wasn’t the same as telling him everything. Someday I hoped our easy friendship would come back, but it hadn’t completely returned yet – and I knew I was risking it by having this conversation, even if he’d started it. He nodded, so I took another drink to wet my throat. “Before you and I met, the first time, I mean,” he rolled his eyes as I winced slightly, “Alistair and I had a fight. A bad one. We nearly broke up. Well, really, we did break up, but we nearly didn’t get back together.”I took a deep breath, thinking about those awful days. It still made me ache when I remembered the weeks of misery. I didn’t look at Faren,. "You can't end the story like that!" the eldest girl complained, her freckled face pinched into a fierce frown."Yeah!" the eldest boy agreed wholeheartedly. "The warrior is supposed to outsmart the spirit. You can't turn him into a dust devil!" Why not?" Because you can't!" the boy retorted adamantly and six heads nodded in agreement.The old man was just about to respond when a voice began calling the names of the older children. They all got up, gave the old man a perfunctory kiss on the cheek with scowls still in place, and went to do their afternoon chores. He was chuckling and getting to his feet when he saw the youngest boy, a sturdy lad of about ten dressed in handed down clothes of faded brown, wandering back to the tree."Grandfather?" Yes, Jon?" Was it a true story?" the boy asked.The old man smiled kindly. The boy was the only child his son and daughter-in-law had before dying in the last fever that struck the region. He had his son's pale, pale skin and unruly, nearly white.
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