Stone Circle Grace, just hold me in your arms

A storyteller? He hadn’t considered it, but while the world spun for a moment in the wake of his movements he considered it. Perhaps he could have stories to tell. His dreams were wild and spirited; they were lives he lived every night, in different skins. He had many tales to tell. 

”I could, yes!” he chimed. He removed himself from the circle, as though stepping down from a stage. ”I like nature. I would like to know plants,”