SOMETHING INSIDE TOLD CARLING that a change was coming. She couldn’t explain it, but she could feel it. And it wasn’t something she was welcoming.
Carling had been up for several hours, gazing out the small round window in her room over the village bakery. The stars faded as, softly and gently, the sun unfurled its splendor across the face of Mount Dashmore, the western hogback and, finally, the little valley that protected the village of Duenton. Spring was making its presence known all across the country known as Crystonia. The lush valley in which the village of Duenton nestled was emerging from the heavy white winter blanket that had covered it for several months. Fresh green sprigs of grass and tiny leaves were making their appearance.
She fidgeted as she looked out the window, the muscles in her neck twitching. It was not the change of seasons that was making her so restive.
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