*** No, NO! screamed the old man. No one calls me Galahad now, save you alone, and the Druid who gave me that name. Immediately, a slender little girl pulled off a gleaminggold ornament and dropped it, then stared in tears at the shards on the floor. His eyes now seemed riveted on the altar.
Ihad to see it for myself, Nis. Your little passenger in there steals all the heat from your bones-he is warm and snug, and his mother shivers. She saw him carried back, covered in the blood of his twin and rival, the King Stag. Sometimes, in a coffin.
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