‘I don’t know what Hope looks like,’ Rielle puffed, as she tried to keep up with Old. The First One just kept walking, the Wand of Time clutched firmly in his hand. Pud trotted between them like a black bouncing ball.
‘It’s a long story,’ Rielle tried to explain. ‘I need to tell Hope I’ve lost something that isn’t mine.’ She glanced at Old. It appeared he wasn’t listening.
‘You see,’ she continued, almost running to keep up with him, ‘the same wind that shook us so horribly on the bridge, um, well, it also snatched Hope’s butterfly and carried her away. Far, that’s her name, was keeping Pud and I company while I searched for my dream.’ She glanced at Old again.
His mouth was grim as he powered on. ‘Trouble,’ he muttered. ‘Trouble took your little friend!’
‘But it was just the wind,’ Rielle answered unsurely. ‘The canyon back there was not very friendly, after all.’
Old shook his head. ‘Not canyon! Not mountain! Not little friend! Trouble! Only trouble can break the Truth of Time. Only trouble breaks things I build with these hands!’
The mountain path began to lead them down into the lowlands.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish