Unto the Grove

 



With great care, Sir Bucket unrolled the fragile, stained vellum. It had a burned edge, obscuring some of the unicorn and tree artwork along the margins.

The flowing script read:


Go thee now unto the grove
Fear not the wolf nor bear
Go thee now unto the grove
And hear the knowledge there.

Seek the tree within the grove
So small and green and free
Seek the tree within the grove
What does it say to thee?

Close thy eyes within the grove
Listen with thy heart
Close thy eyes within the grove
And on thy journey start.

Let thy soul drift far away
Ride high upon the wind
Let thy soul drift far away
Drink deep at journey's end.

At the bottom, she could barely read a last bit, written in a different hand.

I, Wizard Owenstanish of White River, do now write with my own hand on this third day of summer, the 16th year of Queen Juliska of Salvania.

This incantanto being the first of five found within a clay pot buried in the southern desert.


She rolled the scroll again and closed her eyes, pondering the words and wondering if they had any power.  She heard the breeze rustle through the young tree's leaves.  Slowly, the wind increased.

She opened her eyes and saw the world dissolve around her...


///

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