Roland handed it to him and then went back to looking out at the Drop. Fair to look at, and courageous, if the stories they were already telling about town were true—quick in both thought and movement, too. “Because you stole something from him. The hem of the cloak Reynolds always wore came into view, and then he was coming down the stairs, his face freshly washed and his curly red hair hanging about his ears.
Because he was coming back. He had clearly been captivated by the story; his eyes shone nearly as bright as Oy’s. As he worked, he listened for the warbling of the thinny . looked up and saw a meteor flash overhead—a brief and brilliant orange streak across the vault of heaven.
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