ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-EIGHT: The Elder's Croak
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“That’s enough staring at our neighbors, Ro,” a woman said. She touched the switch that darkened the bedroom window, hiding the view of the house next door and turning Thegund’s day into night.
“But they’re leaving. Even the grandfathers. And they called a wizard from Chayklo. She’s wrapping the house in—”
“No more about that. Sit down with your sisters. It’s time for a story, and then three wordchains each before sleep.”
*
“Would you like me to tell you the story now?” Jeneth-art’h asked as his fingers gently captured his son’s hair into a loose braid.
Stu sat perfectly still, face turned toward the stream. “Were they right not to let me hear it? Will it make me cry?”
“I hope it will make you laugh,” said his father. “And if you cry at the sad parts, is that wrong?”