“You must be tired,” he said. “Being a warrior is an awfully fine and noble profession, but I’m sure it’s wearisome. Now boys, go straight down the hall, grab a chair, and put your feet up. Relax.”
Two seconds later, we were wedged deep in a lumpy sofa in his sitting room. The only light was a roaring hearth fire that threw our quivering shadows against the wall. Tattered tales were piled high in corners. There was a clock hanging over the mantel, boxes of knickknacks stacked on shelves, and several faded family photos sat next to a meerschaum pipe on a carved nesting table.
“Are you hungry?” Seth asked us. “I can fix you something to eat.”
I sniffed the air. His home smelled like freshly picked strawberries.
“I . . . um . . . uh,” Mason started …show more content…
I have a cauldron of sour porridge with pokeberries on the fire right now.”
Our host’s long robe flapped around his ankles as he hobbled down the hall. Before we knew it, he’d brought us steaming bowls heaped with berries, orange carrot shakes, and extra-large strawberry chip cookies.
I was three-quarters of the way through my cookie before I remembered to breathe.
Mason slurped his cereal and explained our encounter with the centaur, and I shared our wish to find Shadow Mountain.
Seth raised his hand. “So the troll wants to kill you, and the centaurs can’t help until you enter their realm. Hmm . . . I know you’re capable of warfare, but mind reading . . . that sounds a bit far-fetched.”
I wrapped my hands around my glass. It wouldn’t have taken more than a couple of squeezes to smash it to shards. But I preferred to use my brains rather than my brawn.
“Look,” I growled. “I know there’s some kind of connection. I could hear the centaur’s voice coiling around in my brain.”
“Dude,” Mason whispered. “Calm down.”
Seth was so startled, he dropped his spoon in his pokeberry porridge. “Wait. What? I do not doubt your abilities. The power you say you possess to interpret the centaur’s thoughts sounds truly remarkable. Even your grandfather couldn’t exchange ideas with the
Two seconds later, we were wedged deep in a lumpy sofa in his sitting room. The only light was a roaring hearth fire that threw our quivering shadows against the wall. Tattered tales were piled high in corners. There was a clock hanging over the mantel, boxes of knickknacks stacked on shelves, and several faded family photos sat next to a meerschaum pipe on a carved nesting table.
“Are you hungry?” Seth asked us. “I can fix you something to eat.”
I sniffed the air. His home smelled like freshly picked strawberries.
“I . . . um . . . uh,” Mason started …show more content…
I have a cauldron of sour porridge with pokeberries on the fire right now.”
Our host’s long robe flapped around his ankles as he hobbled down the hall. Before we knew it, he’d brought us steaming bowls heaped with berries, orange carrot shakes, and extra-large strawberry chip cookies.
I was three-quarters of the way through my cookie before I remembered to breathe.
Mason slurped his cereal and explained our encounter with the centaur, and I shared our wish to find Shadow Mountain.
Seth raised his hand. “So the troll wants to kill you, and the centaurs can’t help until you enter their realm. Hmm . . . I know you’re capable of warfare, but mind reading . . . that sounds a bit far-fetched.”
I wrapped my hands around my glass. It wouldn’t have taken more than a couple of squeezes to smash it to shards. But I preferred to use my brains rather than my brawn.
“Look,” I growled. “I know there’s some kind of connection. I could hear the centaur’s voice coiling around in my brain.”
“Dude,” Mason whispered. “Calm down.”
Seth was so startled, he dropped his spoon in his pokeberry porridge. “Wait. What? I do not doubt your abilities. The power you say you possess to interpret the centaur’s thoughts sounds truly remarkable. Even your grandfather couldn’t exchange ideas with the