The Great Tree of Avalon
“And over him, as well: Since he wore no shirt, like all eaglemen while in human form, the light touched his bare shoulders, his muscular arms, and the bridge of his hooked nose.
With all the intensity of a soaring eagle studying a fleeing hare in a field below, he studied the staff that leaned against the wall. Its gnarled shaft and knotted top pulsed with light from the flame vent—but not with light from within. No, right now it looked just the same as it had for most of the past seventeen... years: an unremarkable piece of wood.
Unremarkable . . . until a few nights ago, when the staff had glowed with its own light, its own inner magic.
Scree’s yellow-rimmed eyes peered closely at the dark grains of the wood, the tight knot at the top, and the subtle lines along the shaft—which, in the cavern’s flickering light, looked almost like the carved edges of runes.
But he saw nothing magical.MoreLess
With all the intensity of a soaring eagle studying a fleeing hare in a field below, he studied the staff that leaned against the wall. Its gnarled shaft and knotted top pulsed with light from the flame vent—but not with light from within. No, right now it looked just the same as it had for most of the past seventeen... years: an unremarkable piece of wood.
Unremarkable . . . until a few nights ago, when the staff had glowed with its own light, its own inner magic.
Scree’s yellow-rimmed eyes peered closely at the dark grains of the wood, the tight knot at the top, and the subtle lines along the shaft—which, in the cavern’s flickering light, looked almost like the carved edges of runes.
But he saw nothing magical.MoreLess
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