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| Courtesy of the wonderful Miss Angela Goff |
“I have a
newfound appreciation for the desert,” Daurian said, peering down into a filthy
cistern beneath Walkjöra.
Drismatir
grunted.
Daurian felt a jabbing
in his rump. He spun around to
face a little boy standing behind him, a smirk on his dirty face.
The boy said, “I
don’t think you’re as wise as Halvardr says. Adults aren’t as smart as they think. The only reason children are called
stupid is because we don’t have age to cover it up.”
“Yes, but children
lack the wisdom that comes with age.”
“How d’you know?”
Daurian laughed. “I was a child, too.”
