One summer's eve

[Tanda Knighthawke]

Water droplets hung in the thick summer sky, light from the half moon casting a silver halo around itself. The branches of the dead oak formed a network of pathways across the sky, and perched high upon a branch the familiar outline of an owl. The warmth of summer hung close to the ground held in place by the warm moist air.

There was no breeze to bring relief from the heat to my sky clad body as I lie upon my back in the garden of my home. It was too warm to sleep in my bed. The ground was already damp with dew, as I brushed my hand through the blanket of ground cover beneath me. The dew collected on my fingertips, slowly I drag my wet fingers over the flat of my belly. The water forms transparent domes, which glisten in the moonlight. In the distance I can hear the long soulful cry of a morning dove, many mistake them for owls, but the owl in the oak was silent.

When it became quite clear there would be no sleep to be found tonight, my thoughts turned to what the sunrise would bring. It was at least a few hours yet until dawn, it seemed pointless to lay here and not sleep. Wearily I pull myself to my feet and decide maybe a swim would be a nice break from the heat. I trudge down the path and stairs from the garden leaving wet footprints on each step as I go, to my closet to retrieve a traveling robe. The robe clings to my damp skin as I attempt to slide it over my body, once tugged into place I utter traveling words and whisk my way off through the ethers to Minoc.

Finding a favorite shallow spot in the river near where the Grotto once stood, I drop the robe on the bank and wade out into the water. The cool water creeping slowly up my legs as I make my way out, funny how to the knee the water doesn’t feel intensely cold, yet the further up your legs toward your core you go the more the body tenses in response to the temperature change. You can feel the muscles in your legs, buttocks and stomach tighten, other areas tense and stand at attention. One would think the body would find this a welcome change after sweating in the steam bath that the last couple days had been. Slowly I reach chest depth and the little waves ripple across the rivers surface, lapping against me as they would the shore.

Once accustom to the water I submerge myself under its surface, and then push my face skyward as I break the out back into the night air. Slowly both hands come to push the hair from my face and water from my eyes. What a wonderful sensation the water running over my head, though the long strands of now white hair, its almost as if I can feel the steam rise as this water lifts the heat from my body. Relaxing now, I tuck my legs up and lean back to float in the water, paddling slight with my hands to avoid the lazy river from carrying me down stream. Once I have found the right combination of movement to remain stationary I unfold. A thought pops into my head, some one some day should invent a contraption to allow one to float stationary in the water without the use of body motion.

As my body loses heat to the river, the long night and lack of sleep begin to take their toll. Wishing I could sleep right here, I decide it would be foolish to risk drowning for a few moments sleep. I right myself and make my way back toward the bank and my robe. I feel the full weight of my body arrive to my frame as each inch emerges back out into the air. How heavy I feel now, so much more than I did before this swim, I don my robe and find a secluded spot along the bank for a few moments slumber. Not wise to slumber openly where beasties roam.

Shortly sleep comes and within my mind opens the scene of me trekking along through the countryside barefoot, the air smells remarkably fresh and it’s cool and crisp as it greets the rising sun. In the distance I can hear the bleating of sheep. Funny my hair is long and red still as I walk toward the sound of the flock. My mind drifts back into the dream blocking out the conflicting detail. Finding the flock in a small grassy valley talking amongst themselves and grazing I settle on a rock and welcome the first warming rays of the sun as they strike my face. Reality filters into the dream again, oh I remember this I was about twelve… again the dream softly pushes back the call of morning. I conjure breakfast with a few simple words and munch happily on apples and cheese. The sheep begin to move closer toward me, when one black-faced ewe nuzzles my hand for a piece of apple.

Little by little my mind travels back to real time only to be bombarded by the feeling of a warm soft fuzzy something brushing against my face. My eyes open to be met by the familiar outline of a sheep. As I sit up I push the creature back a bit, many wander out and around Minoc. Some lost from herds, others born wild to sheep lost and never recovered. The sheep moves into the shadow of the bushes as my ears hear the all to familiar growling grumbled voice of a Gargoyle. With deliberate moves I put my arm around the sheep and whisper the words of invisibility, no breakfast to be had here.
With the gruff and grumbled voice fading off into the distance with each wing beat it was safe to return. I summoned a couple of apples into this plane, gifting one to the little sheep who warned me and eating the other for breakfast.

It was morning, time to return to work at the library. More bookcases and tomes to dust, a few new ones to catalog and shelve, it was getting rare to find a book that has not been about the realm for decades so this new book was an accomplishment. I must admit I’d eagerly stayed up the two nights it took me to read it cover to cover the week before. This new work was by a new author what a grand life he must lead, it is filled with tales of the realm in a light I had not considered. It contains sketches and detailed descriptions of relics and bones found as he digs beneath the ground we walk on.