Spectral Shadows

Serial No. 1

Children of the Ommadawn

Episode No. 1

An Invitation to the Living Forest

The forest stood still and quiet in the darkness of the ending night. All who lived there were peacefully at rest. All, that is, with the exception of the trees, who did not sleep by day or night, but rather by the seasonal cycles of the year.

Only in the winter did they sleep. At all other times they were wide awake, observing all that took place around them, and extending compassion to all the smaller life forms sheltered within their branches.

Most of the animal tribes that lived in the forest were unaware of this, as it was beyond their understanding. Their minds were not attuned to life as it was perceived by plants. Just as the humans of that world were not attuned to life as it was perceived by animals.

Yet, in both animals and humans, there would always be some who felt it unsafe to dismiss the importance of things they did not understand. Such people conceived that any living thing, extended kindness by another, must surely feel a sense of appreciation and gratitude, even if it could not express that feeling in a way they could comprehend.

Such people also conceived that there could be no act of kindness or villainy in the forest that would not be witnessed by one tree or another. And if it should be that the trees could see and communicate amongst themselves, there would be no place for the guilty to hide from their ever pointing and accusing branches. Nor any good deed that would be completely unknown, or unhonored.

Though there was no way for the people of that world to prove these theories one way or the other you, the listener, now sit in a universe and reality far removed from those whose journeys you are about to share. Your insight is complete, and you may know with absolute certainty that the awareness of the trees was indeed a reality.

And now, as you project yourself across the ages to that distant time and place, you stand amidst the trees in the darkness just before dawn…and feel them watching you.

But the trees regard your presence as nothing unusual. Just another spectral shadow of the future come to observe history. Perhaps the trees even think of you as a kindred spirit, for you are as powerless to affect the events you shall witness as they are.

On that morning of so many ages ago, as the trees stood lost in contemplation, the sound of their collective mental activity produced a soft, continuous hum—imperceptible to the mortal ear. But as you tune your immortal senses to that far away space and time, you are sure to hear it.

This chord is unique to one day in the entire history of creation—its harmonic parameters defined by the exact number of trees that survived to join their voices in a choir. The sound is not quite as loud or as beautiful as it was the day before, and not quite as weak as it would be the day after.

By chasing this unique sound many time travelers are guided to this special place and day. The specters of gods and lost souls alike gather about you in the shadows, waiting expectantly for the show to begin.

Listen now as nature’s orchestra tunes itself to the pitch hummed by the trees, and prepare yourself. The overture to the Ommadawn has begun.

None of the forest inhabitants had any concept of time in the way that you or I might measure it. Yet they all had a daily schedule that they adhered to religiously.

The Universal Clock, upon which all the forest creatures were dependent, had no numbers, springs or hands with which to mark off the day into minutes or hours. And it never made a sound that alerted anyone as to what time of day it was. Yet all the creatures who were responsive to it always knew when it was time to do something, and what it was time to do.

Never did they question why this should be. It seemed as natural to them as the presence of the air they breathed. And they felt no need to understand it.

And so it was that, all at once, as if having been summoned to life by some distant, magical call, the forest’s inhabitants began to awaken.

As each creature began its daily routine of existence, it generated sounds that united harmonically with the humming of the trees. Eventually, the sounds began to rise and fall with musical progressions, developing the notes of a theme that steadily rose in intensity, being enhanced and varied slightly by each new voice that was added. And this theme was called “The Hymn of Life.”

In the sky over the forest’s ceiling, patches of collecting moisture in the upper atmosphere were gradually being illuminated. The faint traces of astral star fire which had kept vigil through the night were soon obscured in orange glow—a fiery aura rising in counterpoint to The Hymn of Life, heralding the beginning of the new day.

As the glow filtered through the trees and made its way to the forest’s floor, The Night People drifted off into their usual state of daytime obscurity. They, like all spectral shadows, could have no substance in the presence of material light.

They lingered for a time in what patches of darkness remained, and then dissolved as the light encroached upon them—almost as if they had been the dreams of the forest’s own mentality, fading to forgotten memories and giving way to conscious thought.

The living orchestra forest then developed The Hymn of Life into a mighty crescendo of sound. For Ra had appeared on the horizon. And the forest rejoiced with all its being at the return of its life giving force.

On the eastern edge of this forest, which was known as Shinrin, there stood a great mountain, “Mount Kaidan-Sora” – a monolithic icon to the forest dwellers of ancient times.

Its name, translated from the now disused ancient forest language, could be read as “The Mountain Stairway to Heaven.” So named because it was believed Heaven awaited anyone who would climb to the top. Especially since the mountain was so tall that climbing to its frozen peak meant certain death for any mortal creature.

Not quite that high up on the mountain, where the terrain was still too inhospitable for mortals to bear, there was a hidden cave—the existence of which was known to very few.

On this day the cave was cold, dark and otherwise uninviting, as it was most of the time. Then, all at once, the cave was a blaze with light and sound. Loudly tinkling bells sounded amidst furious percussion, myriad rainbows of living energy lit the walls, and prismatic light flooded forth from the cave’s entrance, traveling in a straight line that blazed across the early morning sky.

Then, with a final flare of cosmic sparks and a sound like a thousand recordings being played at a hundred times their proper speed, a glowing pyramid shaped Sound Chaser appeared inside the cave—its height precisely measured not to exceed the cave’s limits.

The Sound Chaser gave off warmth that made the cave comfortably habitable. It also gave off a glow that provided more than adequate light, while painting entertaining animated designs on the walls. This made the cave a rather nice place to visit. What a pity that it was beyond the reach of any mortal creature that desired to continue living.

A rectangular aperture appeared within the pyramid, allowing a greater glow from inside to be revealed. And out of this opening emerged a white unicorn.

The unicorn looked around the cave, taking note that it had not changed since his last visit to the planet Chikyu. He paused a moment to reflect on how much more time had passed for him since that visit then would have passed for the people of Chikyu. For them, perhaps 3 or 4 years. For him…Well, he had lost count after the first thousand years or so.

His name was Shane Shiroi Tadashika-Ommandeer. He was a Time Captain capable of assuming any shape he desired and living virtually forever. In his ship, “The Rocinantè,” he traveled through time and space from one mission to another, with rarely a chance to rest in between. And, since he did not age in a physical sense, he had long since ceased to see the value in measuring his own time of existence.

Having already traveled for thousands of years, and seeing no end to his voyaging in sight, everything seemed rather routine to him now. This planet, this cave, a new mission not so different from many other missions, new people to meet, get attached to and probably watch die. He half yawned as he attempted in vain to work up some enthusiasm for the task that lay ahead of him.

Now satisfied that his hiding place for the Sound Chaser was secure, he called back into the opening from which he had emerged. “I’m off, Rocie,” he called. “Look after the ship and follow the usual monitoring procedure.”

“Aye, Captain,” a metallic voice responded from inside. And as Shane turned away, the opening in the glowing pyramid closed behind him.

What a pathetic arrival, thought Shane. His job was just no fun with only the little robot that spoke for the Sound Chaser to keep him company. It had been quite some time since he’d had any real traveling companions. Thankfully he knew the mission that had brought him to Chikyu would provide a new crew for his ship of time. So his next adventure would not be this lonely.

As Shane exited the warm environment of the cave the cruelest of winds assailed him -— winds that would have frozen a normal creature solid in a matter of minutes.

For an instant he expressed irritation at the snow being blown into his eyes. Then he closed his eyes and proceeded on his way, using his inner vision to view his surroundings as he walked.

This was a psychic power he used to divorce his mind and body from the deadly chill and motion of the air, enabling him to walk in perfect comfort.

Even his long white mane did not acknowledge the passing of a breeze, as he stood in a reality apart where such things could only touch him if he wished them to.

Shane’s coat was of the very same color as the snow-covered terrain through which he walked. So it would have been difficult to see him, had there been anyone around to see him, which he knew there would not be at this altitude.

This was why he had chosen such a harsh place to reside in while visiting Chikyu. He was a friendly fellow by nature, but he did enjoy his privacy.

Even the tread of his hooves made no impression in the snow to betray his comings and goings as he moved like an invisible shadow over the land.

Presently, Shane came to a steep drop off where he could look down on the forest below. He was so high up he could see to the very edge of Shinrin, where the encircling human city took over the domination of the landscape.

Shinrin was much smaller now than it had been the last time Shane had looked down from this precipice. Several more miles of forest were gone in each direction. At this rate Shinrin would be reduced to a memory within the next human generation, and all the tribes of animals that depended on Shinrin would be extinct.

Shane found this thought disturbing. The forest, like a Time Captain, was supposed to be immortal — perpetually self-regenerating. The awareness that the forest was dying reminded Shane that a Time Captain was not really immortal in any true sense of the term. Someday Shane would have to face an ending of his own. And he never knew from one mission to the next if it would be his last.

As a Time Captain, Shane had the power to save Shinrin. There was any number of things he could do. If he wanted to he had the power to destroy the human race and reclaim the entire planet. But he was not allowed to use his power according to his own whims.

The powers Shane possessed were entrusted to him by the Seven Omman Lords who guided the destiny of the universe. He was only allowed to use those powers in their service. To use them in furthering his personal desires, even if his desire was only to help the oppressed, would make him a Time Criminal – putting him at odds with any other Time Captains who might be sent to undo his efforts.

Shane had no desire to be at war with those of his own kind, nor the passionless Omman Lords. This, more than any sense of loyalty to his masters, held him in check. Yet, in the presence of such impending death and destruction as he knew he would soon witness, it was difficult for him to restrain his actions.

His soul already weighed heavily with the guilt of many he had not saved when he had the chance – entire worlds he had allowed to be destroyed.

Other Time Captains dealt with this by hardening their hearts and learning to turn off their emotions, becoming the perfect soldiers of destiny. Shane had learned long ago he could never do that. Wherever he went, whoever he met, he cared and extended compassion – taking pain on himself as the result. Yet, in spite of this pain, or perhaps because of it, he was regarded as one of the best and most respected Time Captains – one who could always be depended upon to accomplish his assigned task.

Shane leaped from the precipice, displaying perfect form and grace. As he descended through the air, sparkling light shimmered around his body. The light became solid, forming a pair of mighty wings on which he glided and circled as he came ever nearer to the treetops below, where Spring reigned in contrast to the frozen mountain above.

As Shane neared the forest floor, birds flying above the treetops took notice, regarding him with both wonder and fear. They had never seen anything like him. So they assumed he must be some kind of supernatural being.

They fluttered about and gossiped, spreading the word throughout Shinrin of a strange, ghostly visitor descending from the top of Mount Kaidan-Sora.

Shane eventually touched ground on a path that was familiar to him. His wings then dissolved in a flurry of kaleidoscopic light. The light became a cloud that completely cloaked him for an instant – then quickly evaporated, revealing not a unicorn, but a powerful white-coated deer.

The observing birds and animals that had witnessed the transformation panicked and ran screaming from the scene as quickly as they could. They did not care if this being was ghost or god. They simply could not bear the presence of anything so grand and unfamiliar.

Shane looked around. He was still alone. The form he had taken made him unapproachable.

Was this a good thing? Was it necessary to his mission? He could just as easily have made himself a cute little fawn. But he had a history on this planet, and for personal reasons he desired to be seen as powerful here. He would have to take care that his pride didn’t interfere with his assignment.

The paths of Shinrin were as familiar to Shane as though he had never left. So much so that when he came to a junction of several paths he hardly had to remind himself, “That way to the meadow. That way to the shrine. That way to the river. And that way…” He paused to choke back an unexpected rush of emotion before breathing the last word. “…home.”

As Shane turned down the path that led to the part of the forest where his family had lived, he could not help but be overwhelmed by memories that he had suppressed for centuries – painful memories of rejection, betrayal and disappointment.

Obviously Shane’s life on Chikyu had not been an overwhelmingly pleasant one. Just being in that place again seemed to free his emotional wounds to open of their own accord.

Shane now observed how much easier it was to protect himself from the physical discomforts of his surroundings than it was to shield himself from the emotional torments that sprang from within.

While walking leisurely down the path he recalled his past life as a deer of Chikyu. It had been one of those missions that required him to be reborn as a mortal creature, temporarily losing touch with his past memories as a Time Captain.

It had been pleasant at first. A Time Captain seldom gets to experience any sense of wonder or innocence. But that had passed quickly as his blocked off memories struggled to free themselves.

As he had grown to maturity he was plagued by visions in dreams. Because of these he knew that he was no ordinary deer. But when he attempted to communicate what he sensed about himself to other members of his tribe, he was regarded merely as eccentric and self-aggrandizing. Thus he had endured harsh criticism and cruelty, even from members of his own family.

Now he had returned with all of his premonitions vindicated, holding the power of life and death overall. But he was not here for revenge. It would take some effort to remember that.

Suddenly, Shane’s reverie was interrupted by a sound. Someone had cried out, as if in pain.

The voice, though more mature than he remembered, was unmistakably that of his sister Praline. She, whom Shane had loved best during his past life on Chikyu – the one member of his family who had whole-heartedly believed in him.

Shane felt a natural compulsion to run to her, but he restrained himself, knowing that her cry was merely one of discomfort, and that she was in no danger. He might even have anticipated this, as his mission concerned Praline’s children. Apparently he had arrived on their birthday.

Shane turned his ears towards the sound. Praline was quite close. And he could tell she was having some difficulty. He could use his power and experience to help her, but he remembered that the time of giving birth was not something a doe cared to share – not even with her mate, let alone a long lost brother. “Best leave her be for now,” he thought.

“Arigato, Shane-oniichan,” he heard as a second voice in his mind – the voice of Praline projected psychically.

Shane was surprised. It was hard for him to remember Praline as anything but the small, helpless fawn he had left behind. Obviously she was well grown up now, with impressive powers of her own. She not only knew he was there but knew what he was thinking as well, and she was thanking her big brother for being so considerate.

He was also impressed that she thought in The Old Language. He had known scholars who could speak and understand it, but none so close to it that they would think their unspoken thoughts in it.

To be that close to the ancient ways suggested to Shane that Praline must surely have developed serious magical powers. Yet she did not give off the aura of a master magician. Instead he sensed nothing from her but extraordinary gentility and compassion. Obviously she had given in to their father’s insistence and become a priestess.

An unexpected pleasant feeling came over Shane. A strange thing for him to feel in a place that held so much bitterness for him. It seemed that this was not the same world he had known before. He could sense that all those who had injured his pride were gone. Even his old self was gone. Only Praline remained. The only part of his past he had felt worth revisiting was the only part to have survived.

Would his powerful stature and beautiful white coat impress Praline, he pondered. Of course not. As if Praline had ever looked at him physically. She who had always been able to see him for what he really was. No physical illusion he could create would affect her in the least.

But still he did not modify his appearance to that of the normal deer he had been before. This mission did not require him to blend in. So he saw no reason to pretend to be a normal creature of that world.

Shane wandered on through paths of shaded green enjoying the effect he had on the animals he passed. He knew pride and vanity were sins that he should have overcome centuries ago, but it would be quite a while before his assignment would begin. He had to do something to pass the time.

The philosophy of most forest creatures revolved around the worship of nature. That which was natural was praised. Anything that seemed unnatural was frowned upon. Praline was an authority on this subject, as well as all other matters pertaining to the religions of Shinrin, both modern and ancient.

Because Praline believed very strongly in the worship of Nature, she regarded every natural experience of her life with reverence. So she anticipated that what was happening to her at that moment would be the most profound experience of her life.

To be afraid or show any kind of reluctance at this point would be an unthinkable disgrace for her. This was her chance to pass on the legacy of countless generations before her. That thought held nothing but joy for Praline.

Yet, the pain had taken her by surprise. She had known it would not be easy. But this was not what she had anticipated. She felt sick and found it difficult to think rationally. Try as she might, she could not stop the “What ifs” from entering her mind and causing her anxiety. What if something was wrong? What if she was going to die? What if everything she believed was not true?

At this point there was hardly anything she could do to aid the birth process. She had only to let it run its course. But attempting to maintain her rationality while she endured the pain and delirium was proving to be her toughest battle.

As much as she hated to admit it, she could have used some help and support with that effort. If only the pride of a doe hadn’t bid her to let Shane leave. Even now she had the power to call him back, but what a disgrace that would be. She did not want him to see her lacking in faith.

The chemical imbalances in her body eased off momentarily, allowing her an instant of clear thought. There was nothing to fear, she realized. It was not her destiny to die in some mishap of the birth process. Nor would Nature allow anything so trivial to confound the destinies of her unborn children. She had only to believe and let nature take its course.

Praline forced herself to meditate. Much in the way Shane had divorced his body from the cold of the mountain, Praline separated her mind from the pain in her physical body.

“I am a perfect spiritual being,” she told herself in The Old Language. “My physical life is only the dream of my true self. I can control what my consciousness feels. To be controlled by pain and fear is not my choice. I choose not to be controlled by the physical at this moment. I commend myself to the care of Nature’s guardians, in whom my faith is absolute.”

As if in rebellion, the pain increased once again. It met Praline’s resolve and found it impenetrable. Praline was now in a state of transcendence. Only her body remained in the physical universe. Her mind was elsewhere.

The luminous shafts of light shining through the leaves of her glade began to dim and take on different forms. Soon Praline perceived around her a network of dark, shadowy tunnels. These were the corridors of her subconscious thought.

She had been here before, and it never ceased to amaze her what a mighty space they seemed to encompass. Far more space than could be contained in the head of a mortal doe.

By this she understood that her true self was not encased in her mortal body. It existed far away in another universe — another state of being she was not yet capable of understanding. All she knew was it was big. And it was safe.

Usually it was quiet there — never a sound other than her own thoughts — nothing there she did not bring with her. But this time there was a sound. Voices were singing far off in another corridor. They were wandering in her direction as they sang — the volume of their voices steadily increasing as they approached.

Praline recognized a familiar voice singing lead and knew right away to whom the voices belonged. This was indeed a joyful moment. And the joy Praline felt was more than she could contain. She released it by vocalizing in harmony with the voices. Singing a song with no words that allowed her to emote pure emotion — expressing grateful acceptance of the miracle she had been chosen to participate in.

As the voices approached, they brought with them light, illuminating the corridor.

The luminous beings encircled Praline and danced around her — their voices offering reassurance. The gods themselves had come to give the comfort she had been too proud to ask from her brother.

Out of the encircling light The Omman Lord Of Dreams appeared and stood before Praline. The specter said not a word but repeated Praline’s song in her own voice, expressing gratitude for Praline’s faithful service to her cause.

With this Praline knew there could be no question that she was blessed, and there was no need for further insecurity on her part.

Once more Praline raised her voice, singing in duet with The Omman Lord Of Dreams — both expressing unison of cause and determination.

The Omman Lord drew back as she sang, her light once again melding with the light of the others. Then their light dispersed as the song faded, taking on the familiar shape of Praline’s glade.

She was back in the material world, and her two fawns lay beside her, delivered in the midst of her vision without pain or complication.

As Praline gazed at their passive forms, her sensitive eyes detected lingering traces of the magic that had touched them. She watched motionless until it had faded completely.

At that same moment, on a high plateau overlooking Shinrin, there stood a solitary majestic figure. This was Angelis, spectral patriarch of the Ommandeer family. But he was more commonly referred to as The Oracle.

Angelis was known to bear the wisdom of the ages. But he was rarely heard to speak. One could approach him with a question, and if he deemed the person worthy he would give a short cryptic answer. But even as generation after generation passed before his eyes from his companionless vantage place, he kept the bulk of his wisdom hidden within himself, waiting for someone special to pass it on to.

Angelis was a deer of untold age, and like Praline, he was sensitive to magic. He had heard the singing and he could see the traces of magic aura rising from the area where Praline made her home. More than that he could feel the presence of Praline’s children. Grand children to him, they were. But he had lost count of the generations that separated him from them.

A momentous occasion was this. So Angelis thought he should mark it by recalling the events that had led up to it. The treetops below him blurred into a greenish screen on which he viewed highlights from the film of his life. And what a long film it had turned out to be.

He saw images of family and friends he had all but forgotten. He saw images of himself in the days when he knew what innocence was. And of course, all of his forgotten dreams. All of this completely meaningless to who he was now.

Once, like the two fawns born that day, Angelis had known a sense of newness, and the universe had been his mystery for the solving. But he had solved that mystery ages ago, and The Point Of Know Return was his to claim when ever he desired it.

Glad, he was, to pass that mystery on for the two newborns to solve in their time. He almost envied them this fresh beginning. Yet he also pitied them for the pain they would surely be forced to endure.

Angelis turned away from his vision and looked back towards Praline’s glade — as if looking away from the past to view the future. “Someday soon you will come to me,” he thought to himself. “It is for you I have preserved the gift. I pray you shall be worthy of it.”

Back in the glade, the two fawns were still oblivious to the grand illusion that was the material world. They were only just beginning to accept the reality of their own existence. But the weight of world belief soon began trying to impress itself upon them.

“I think I am something,” thought the first fawn. “If I am able to think that I am something, then I must be something that is able to think that I am something.”

“I feel like I’m alive,” thought the other fawn. “What does it mean to be alive?”

“Don’t ask questions. You don’t want to know,” came a random thought sailing through the air from an unknown source to touch the minds of the children.

“I do want to know,” thought the fawns, almost in unison. “Why do I exist?”

Suddenly responses to this question seemed to come from all around, saying, “For me.” “You exist for me.” “Believe what I say.” “Do as I do.” “Think as I think.” “You don’t need to think for yourself. Let me do that for you.”

“Uh, no thanks,” thought the fawns. “I think…I can think…for myself.”

“Dangerous,” said the voices. “Defiant.” “Sacrilege.” “Shun them.”

“I don’t understand,” thought the fawns. “I must know. Why do I exist?”

Then a frightening voice overwhelmed all the others, saying, “Think not of what you want, for there is no you. There is only us, and you exist merely to feed us.”

“That doesn’t seem very nice,” thought the fawns. “I would not like such an existence. Can I have another?”

Then a second set of entirely different voices entered the minds of the children. These seemed less hostile, but no less oppressive.

“There you go.” “Free thought, that’s the ticket.” “Be your own boss.” “Make your own rules.” “Only rebels get respect.”

“I am not happy,” thought the fawns. “I do not like this feeling. What is this happiness I long for? I need to understand.”

“Happiness is never having to say you’re sorry.” “Happiness is a warm gun.” “Happiness is a new toy.” “Happiness is a [CENSORED].” (Insert your favorite unmentionable joy here.)

The images that these thoughts carried with them made no sense to the children. And they were reluctant to let any of these aspects of world belief impress themselves upon their minds. But the sources of these thoughts were angered by their resistance and sought to force themselves upon the children. Thus the two fawns became quite agitated, and their mother moved to comfort her children by touching them in a loving way.

In that instant, all the voices were hushed. The warmth of Praline’s presence over powered them. Her thoughts, more comforting and attractive than any of the others, found the children more than willing to submit to their dominance.

“You have a wonderful reason for existing,” was the thought they received from Praline. “You exist to be loved. And right now no one loves you more than I do.”

On a distant astral plane in The Realm Of Fantasy, otherwise known as the 6th Dimension of Imagination, at the end of a spiraling rainbow bridge reaching up through multi-colored clouds, a spectacularly designed castle stood on a floating island, suspended above the clouds in defiance of gravitational law. This magnificent psychogenic structure was the home of The Omman Lord, Sylina-Ra, The Dream Weaver.

Inside the castle, Sylina was indulging herself in one of her favorite pastimes. She was observing events taking place throughout the whole of time and space as they were pictured in her lavishly fashioned hologram.

On this particular day, if days can truly be said to exist on an astral plane, The Weaver was tuning in on Praline and her new family, as the birth and development of these two fawns was crucial to her plans for the universal time of transition known as “Ommadawn.”

As the children rested quietly beside their mother, Sylina opened a channel to their minds and wove them a pleasant dream of the exciting world that would soon be theirs to explore. While she spun these visions she sang them a little lullaby, wishing them good fortune and promising to watch over them along their journey.

In doing this The Weaver placed a psychic brace in the minds of the children that would insure their minds would never be completely closed to the astral planes. Not even after they had fully adjusted to material existence.

Sylina would thus be able to influence them in more direct ways than those she normally used to control her agents. They would come to know her personally as a friend to call upon in times of confusion. Thus did she insure that the children would not only have the wisdom of Praline and Shane, but that of herself as well to speed them on towards their destiny.

And the children, hearing Sylina’s song in their minds, instantly fell in love with her voice and rejoiced in the knowledge that they were cared for by such a loving spirit.

Before many days had passed the children had accepted their material existence and had begun to show evidence of developing individual personality traits.

One of Praline’s fawns had a bold adventurous nature. Praline named him Jonathan, after a character in a fable she had once heard who had been similarly bold, as well as a bearer of enlightenment to his people.

The other fawn was more quiet and contemplative. And, Praline thought, maybe just a touch more loving than Jonathan. Praline named her second fawn Raelian, in honor of a wise and gentle traveler who had befriended her family for a short time and helped Shane through a difficult period. Praline had been very fond of that traveler, and for some reason her second fawn reminded her of him.

Honorable names, she thought, for these honorable children of destiny.

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