Мор - ученик смерти

           Thesteadygazefromthosetwinklingeye-socketsencompassestheworldturtle,scullingthroughthedeepsofspace,carapacescarredbycometsandpittedbymeteors. OnedayevenGreatA’Tuinwilldie,Deathknows;now,thatwouldbeachallenge. 

           Butthefocusofhisgazedivesonwardstowardstheblue-greenmagnificenceoftheDiscitself,turningslowlyunderitstinyorbitingsun. 

           NowitcurvesawaytowardsthegreatmountainrangecalledtheRamtops.TheRamtopsarefullofdeepvalleysandunexpectedcragsandconsiderablymoregeographythantheyknowwhattodowith. Theyhavetheirownpeculiarweather,fullofshrapnelrainandwhiplashwindsandpermanentthunder-storms.Somepeoplesayit’sallbecausetheRamtopsarethehomeofold,wildmagic.Mindyou,somepeoplewillsayanything. 

           Deathblinks,adjustsfordepthofvision.Nowheseesthegrassycountryontheturnwiseslopesofthemountains. 

           Nowheseesaparticularhillside. 

           Nowheseesafield. 

           Nowheseesaboy,running. 

           Nowhewatches. 

           Now,inavoicelikeleadslabsbeingdroppedongranite,hesays: YES. 

           *** 

           Therewasnodoubtthattherewassomethingmagicalinthesoilofthathilly,brokenareawhich–becauseofthestrangetintthatitgavetothelocalflora–wasknownastheoctarinegrasscountry.