Janissary Project: Book III
O:tsi:Yu, little ones
The old man stretched his hands towards the snapping blaze. He smiled at all the eager faces of the children around the fire.
"Life," he began in deep tones, "is hard, but good. Oh, we have trials and problems. Maybe more than we think we should have, but mostly these things are sent to us because we asked for them, or step back and allow them to happen. They make adults of children, and give wisdom to adults. What cannot be changed, must be endured."
Joints creaking, the old man lowered himself stiffly to the ground.
Stifling a groan, he folded his legs under him and stared into the fire, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
He looked up, smiled unhappily, and began.
"The Owl . . . stalks the night, devouring all he can find.
"The people were terrified, even to leave their homes by day to hunt and work the fields. They were starving, and worse, their children and the elderly were growing weak.
"So the Lords of Light, the Sacred Way Spirit People, sent a warrior to do battle with the Cannibal Owl
and his armies of demonic and mortal warriors.
"Ah, but this warrior, he cannot do much, wrapped in diapers and then later as a mere child." The old man leaned forward, his eyes wide and angry, whispering . . . .
Part 1
Leaning towards plumpness, she had all the subtlety and tenaciousness of a rotwieller in heat. She lay his unborn son on an altar of blood-blackened stone and whispered, "I want Carl dead."
The spirit shifted uneasily in the dawning sun. Rattlesnake nodded, and she released the child. The Serpent yawned and curled around it.
A streak of sun lanced through the trees and both god and child disappeared into the shadows.
Leda stepped away and smiled.
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