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A call chased along the horizon

The hatchling twisted its neck to stare toward the north

Somewhere, out there, another has been born

As soon as the thought took form, he understood how foolish it was Not one, but a hundred and more, one for every tribe, for every circle of WiseMothers, who for this span of tis of the FirstMothers, the ones who in ancient days bred with the living spirits of earth and gave birth to his kind

So the story was told abeats battered hiht an updraft, and yet it beat those flashing wings as though to churn the still day into a gale The clouds tore apart as it vanished into theround, he saw revealed the hard blue pan of the sky and felt--so briefly!--thewarmth of an early su to suck hiale puh the air The wind poured into hih his skin and into every part of hi hi toward the north, although he isn’t sure how he has co in and the wind pouring through him He burns as if the wind is fire on his skin

He hears their calls, even though they rise so far away that he should not be able to hear theor, deeper than bells, that resonates in his body until he weeps without knohy The hounds whine, licking his hands, but he cannot stop the tears

A puny, cold, fragile creature ned to make him comfortable in the palace "My lord? I pray you,the matter? How can I help you?"

It hurts, but he doesn’t knohy He listens for the last echoes whispering out of the north

Their voices came to him, a thousand, a myriad, but all familiar to hi Of Hand Son Fare Well Be Wise"

The teed wisp of lichen settled out of the air and onto his face He brushed it aside, shook hi theain The wind had failed utterly, and the day becaray filter of a clouded sun The fjall lay e breathed, except hiht have been the last creature alive in the entire land

Certainly he stood alone here

Altogether alone

He sensed it at once, greater than emptiness: an abyss where once earth had lain fire dullness afflicted the ache of the wind and the whisper of sand where grains rolled down the steep sides of the new sinkhole into a shallow chamber half filled with the birth sands that had once covered it A few tiny ice-white for protected the treasure that the WiseMothers had incubated They, too, lay as still as death

He was surrounded by death, although life had sprung froainst the nearest WiseMother It felt only of stone No consciousness animated its core They were absent Gone