Wapun Meadow there's an oily brine bilge water baptism waiting below

wraen's words had a truth to them, and indra considered them quietly. it was certainly true that many myths and stories were weaved from a single strand of hardened experience; yet she wondered too, where these fantastical monsters and beasts of lore had been constructed from, and if at one point their ghastly shapes had roamed the earth.

she thought of tadec and his stories - she still did not feel story was the right word, for it conveyed little of the earnest belief and firm conviction he had for them. and what was he to her? she fumbled for an answer. "tadec - he lives with me in bearclaw valley." she searched wraen's countenance for any sign of recognition, wondering if she had ever chanced to meet the flitting crow.