A Picture of the Heart
5/5
()
About this ebook
What is a heart?
Is it only the vital organ that thumps in our chest, or is something more hidden deep inside each of us? Perhaps a city, or maybe a throne? And if there's a throne, there must be a King, but who's the rightful ruler, the King of White Oak or another?
That's precisely what Tom McKinley will discover—if he can survive a few obstacles. And all this precious discovery will require is facing the ugliest truth about himself, and maybe a few giants, menacing Wiggletwigs, an army of Weurgen, amnesia, and an ominous stranger offering answers to an identity that Tom's desperate to rediscover.
Will Tom resist the urge to gain answers at any cost, or will he plunge into the darkness as he searches for the light?
Timothy Copeland
Timothy Copeland's writing journey began in 2010 when he received the idea for POTH while stationed at Travis AFB and living in Vacaville, CA. Despite his best efforts, he simply lacked the skills to complete the novel. That started changing in 2013, after some training which permitted him to complete a fifty-page outline covering twenty-eight chapters. Afterward, the story went untouched until Timothy joined a Writers Guild in 2017, which provided training and resources to take POTH from outline to rough draft. In 2018, Timothy embarked on a new challenge, attending Fire Academy. Despite the demands of training and a new job, his passion for writing remained. In 2019, he further honed his skills by enrolling in a six-month course with a writing coach. It was in August 2021 that Timothy made a life-altering decision, leaving the Fire Department to pursue his writing full-time. Now, three years later, his dedication has borne fruit, and POTH is finally ready for publishing. To Connect with Timothy, please visit timantoncopeland.com
Related to A Picture of the Heart
Related ebooks
This Night - The Grace Allen Series: The Grace Allen Series, #4 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5When Death Calls: T's Pocket Thrillers, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Man Burning Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRealm of Eternal Sorrows Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDivorce, Interrupted Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Demons Have Arrived Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFace of an Angel Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLetters to Phoenix Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLost: A Novel of Mystery, Intrigue & Revelation Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Deep, Deep Snow Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Taming the Wind Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Before We Say I Do: An Entertaining Angels Short Story: Entertaining Angels Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThree Wishes Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Barri (Book VII of the Winter Fire Series): The Winter Fire Series, #7 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCaptivate Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Mystery Falls Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWilding: Book One of The Traveller's Path Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Ghost Who Loved: Ghost Hunters Mystery Parables Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Time To Travel Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAnthology of Short Stories From Authors Glenn C. and Sasha Gabriel Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsInto the Woods Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5True Purpose Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Snow Angel Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Even Steven Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Disappear Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThat's Life - Short Stories Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFear Itself Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDog Man Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Dead Parade Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Girl on the Ghost Train: An Abby Craig Paranormal Mystery, #1 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Christian Fiction For You
The Screwtape Letters: Annotated Edition Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Someone Like You: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This Present Darkness: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The End of the Affair Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Stranger in the Lifeboat Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Frankenstein: A Guide to Reading and Reflecting Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Warrior of the Light: A Manual Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Perelandra: (Space Trilogy, Book Two) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The First Phone Call From Heaven: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Nefarious Plot Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5That Hideous Strength: (Space Trilogy, Book Three) Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Lineage of Grace Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Pale Blue Eye: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Three Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Jane Austen MEGAPACK ™: All Her Classic Works Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Hood Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Pilgrim’s Progress: Updated, Modern English. More than 100 Illustrations. Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Ultimate Gift Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Hurricane Season Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Leota's Garden Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Dark Tower: And Other Stories Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Piercing the Darkness: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Bridge to Haven Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Fifth Mountain: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Book of Mysteries Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Nefarious Carol Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The List Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Hinds' Feet on High Places: An Engaging Visual Journey Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Visitation Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Related categories
Reviews for A Picture of the Heart
1 rating1 review
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5
Oct 30, 2024
I love portal fantasy. Was a big fan of the Narnia series in my younger years. So, I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed this novel. Timothy does an excellent job of creating a whole host of fantasy creatures, similar to what one would find in the Chronicles of Narnia or Lord of the Rings. But the gem is the allegorical underpinning of the story, again similar to Narnia. You not only get the suspenseful action, but you have to think through the meaning of each character and their relationship with the moral of the story. Fans of portal fantasy and/or allegorical fiction will love this book.
Book preview
A Picture of the Heart - Timothy Copeland
A Picture of the Heart
The White Oak
Timothy Copeland
Copyright © 2024 Tim Copeland
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Tim and Lisa Copeland
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Dear God, Here’s the story you put in my heart all those years ago. May it bring you glory.
Guard your heart above all things.
Proverbs 4:23
1
THE LITTLE WHITE CHAPEL
Tom raised the windows against the brisk Tennessee mountain air. Albeit only a twenty-minute drive into town, it felt like it had taken years to get there, and in some ways, it had. After all, he couldn’t stop performing his disappearing act. His most recent had lasted nearly a year, and he seriously doubted Lilly had enjoyed the show. Still she was the only reason strong enough to convince him to dress in his Sunday best, break his promise, and step into the chapel again.
Fear and excitement swirled within him at the thought of seeing her and finally expressing the feelings that he’d spent years unsuccessfully trying to drown. Eventually, he’d found the key wasn’t to drown the feelings but hide them. So, he’d taken the truth, along with his emotions and pictures of his mother, and placed them inside a simple shoebox. And it had worked until yesterday.
After work, he’d returned to his city apartment to find the door kicked in. Initially, he’d laughed at the thief’s poor choice of victims. There was nothing to steal besides a raggedy couch, an empty fridge, and some clothes. Then he’d spotted the shoebox. The lid was off, and its secrets were spilled across the floor. That’s when the dam he’d carefully constructed around his emotions broke free. It was also the moment he’d decided to break off the strained relationship with the place he’d often fled to from Eureka, his refuge from the truth, the city.
The Welcome to Eureka Springs sign pulled him from his thoughts and back to the present. As expected, the normally sleepy town was bustling today. After all, it was Sunday, the day when everyone attended the little white chapel. Anxiety surged as he drove along the long line of cars parked along the roadside. Fighting the temptation to keep driving, he pulled over and parked at the end of the row. That’s a start. Come on, Tom, we can do this; just turn the vehicle off and get out. He’d barely made it twenty feet before spotting the bicycle with the basket on the front—Lilly’s bike. Somehow, he managed to fight through the anxiety and keep walking. One step at a time, he told himself.
His next obstacle—Lilly’s grandparents—stood atop the chapel steps, greeting the church-goers. Suddenly, he felt unworthy to be here with people like the Bakers who didn’t know how broken he was and could never understand his suffering. Get it together. You promised. He’d already broken too many other promises. A deal is a deal, he encouraged himself. We’re here for Lilly.
Look who it is, Mr. Baker,
Mrs. Baker said.
Tom McKinley!
Mr. Baker said, extending his big hand, which engulfed Tom’s. You back for good this time?
Mr. Baker!
Mrs. Baker chastised.
It’s okay,
Tom said, forcing a smile. It’s a fair question, and yes, or at least I hope so. Umm, is Lilly here?
Right, Lilly. Son, even in a place like Eureka, things and people change,
Mr. Baker said.
Yes, sir,
Tom said, wondering why the man had made such a strange comment.
Okay, well, you better get on in there,
Mrs. Baker said nervously. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here, and I wouldn’t put it past Pastor James to stop the service and say hello if he spots you.
Tom cringed at the thought as he stepped past Mrs. Baker and paused momentarily at the next door. Would the Pastor really do something like that? If so, promise or not, he was leaving right now. But, before abandoning the ship, he cracked the door and peeked in. Thankfully, the Pastor’s back was to the crowd. So, he stepped inside and scanned the room. It only took a few moments to spot Lilly’s blonde hair. As Mr. Baker had said, she was in her usual seat, but Jimmy—Tom’s best friend—wasn’t. Instead, his arm was draped around Lilly. Jimmy had always been a little flirtatious toward her, but he’d never thought much of it. If there was any doubt, it ended as Lilly laid her head on his shoulder. Turning abruptly, he bumped into the door, which thudded against the wall.
Tom, are you okay?
Mrs. Baker asked as he rushed past her and down the stairs.
They should have warned me!
Tom,
Jimmy called. Wait up.
This is not the time or place for this conversation. Nervously, he fumbled his keys. Jimmy was right there to pick them up.
I’m sorry you had to find out this way.
How would you prefer I found out?
Tom, it’s not like we planned this; it just sorta happened.
I have to go,
Tom said as he spotted Lilly coming down the sidewalk. Snatching the keys, he hopped in the Jeep and slammed the door. He’d planned to share the truth today, but with Lilly, not Jimmy, and certainly not under these circumstances. Was he overreacting? Maybe. Should he turn off the Jeep and face them? Probably. After all, they were the only friends he had. But instead, he panicked and sped off when Lilly knocked on the window.
◆◆◆
Jimmy ran into the road and watched as Tom sped away.
I know it’s hard,
Lilly said.
He used to say that you were the only bright spot in his life,
Jimmy responded as he watched the Jeep grow smaller.
Tom had plenty of opportunities to tell me how he felt. How long was I supposed to wait? Wasn’t seven years long enough? He never gave us the chance to get close to him. Every time we tried, he’d leave town without a goodbye or a phone call.
I know. Still, I can’t help but see the broken kid with tears streaming down his face after finding out he had to leave Eureka the day after his fifteenth. The day he left, he made me promise not to tell you until after he was gone. He couldn’t bear to tell you himself.
My heart aches for Tom, but Jimmy, you and I have something special. I had decided to be here for Tom every time he came back, but the Tom we knew never returned from the city. I don’t blame him. After all, I can’t imagine what he suffered after Paul left and his mother passed, but I couldn’t carry that burden for him even if I wanted to. So, now, I’m going back inside. Are you coming?
You go ahead. I’d better message him.
◆◆◆
Trees went by in a flash as Tom sped toward the cabin. His phone chirped. He snatched it from the seat and read the message from Jimmy.
Been a year since you’ve been to town, spoken to Lilly, or come to church. What were you expecting?
What was I expecting? First Paul, then Mom, and now Lilly. Looking up, he screamed, do you have a vendetta against me? He looked back at the road as a brown blur darted from the woods. He jerked the wheel. Metal crunched. Glass shattered. Tom was ejected.
2
UNFAMILIAR SETTINGS
Tom awoke as a chill crept across his back and neck. He reached for the covers but must have kicked them off during the night. Maybe it was the nightmares again. Rolling over, he curled up, but the chill wouldn’t be denied. Finally, opening his eyes, he sat up abruptly. Why am I in the woods?
Confused, Tom looked around for clues, but nothing looked familiar. Am I dreaming? A pinch said he wasn’t. Did I sleepwalk? Nonsense, I’ve never done that before. Then, an image of a brown blur darting from the woods flashed into his thoughts. That’s right, he’d wrecked.
As the puzzle pieces came together, he checked his body for pain, but to his surprise, nothing hurt. Hopping up, he looked for any signs of the Jeep or the road, but what he spotted instead sent him scrambling behind the closest tree. Did it see me? He pressed back into the tree and listened—decision time, run, or peek. Finally, gathering every ounce of courage, he peeked out and squinted through the dim light. Still there. Hasn’t moved. By some miracle, the creature standing a hundred feet away hadn’t spotted him.
Okay, it’s probably a bear. A bear wearing a shirt!? I probably didn’t see that right. I must have hit my head during the wreck. When I look again, it won’t be there. But if it is, it definitely will not be clothed. He peeked. Nope, that’s not a bear, and it is wearing clothes. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure it hadn’t moved. But was he confident enough to risk a longer look?
Soon, curiosity began to get the best of him, and he leaned out. It was still beside the tree with its back turned. Perhaps he could get an even closer look. He moved within fifty feet. Whatever it was, it wasn’t moving and it was wearing a tattered shirt and shorts. Cautiously, he approached. A huge man? Its legs were as big as Tom’s torso, and its arms the width of his thigh. Its shaggy hair was a tangled mess, and scissors had likely never touched its bushy beard.
This has to be an elaborate hoax. Reaching out, he touched its hairy arm and jerked back. It’s warm. Sunlight? Nope. The thick overhead canopy completely obscured the sun. He’s alive! Nonsense, Tom chastised himself. Reaching up, he placed his hand on the left side of its chest. Thump. Tom jerked his hand back. That settled it. He was as still as a statue but alive nonetheless. This was undoubtedly not an elaborate hoax. And whatever had happened to him had happened suddenly. He appeared to have just swung his ax, which was still sunk into the tree. The words, A Gift from—were carved into the handle, but the giant’s massive hand covered the rest.
Suddenly, the mystery of the giant faded, and reality—which the incident had distracted him from—emerged. These weren’t Eureka’s woods. The trees were different. This wasn’t mountainous terrain; the land was flat. Even in the densest parts of Eureka’s mountains, you could spot the sky, but not here. He had to be dreaming, but if he was, this must be a lucid dream or a concussion. Perhaps he was hallucinating or dead. Dead? Stop it!
Suddenly, something Lilly had once said popped into his mind, ‘If you reach out to God, God will reach back.’He’d tried that approach the night his mom received the cancer report. Where had that gotten him? More suffering, that’s where. No, he would not be reaching out today. The only person he could trust would handle this—himself.
3
NAMELESS’ DILEMMA
The little creature peered down through the tree canopy at the strangely dressed man. He acts like he’s never seen a giant. Sure, this one’s frozen, he chuckled, but it’s still a giant. Come on. Come on. Come on. His sharp talons dug into the soft wood as he waited impatiently. Make a choice! Just as he was ready to snap, the human turned from the giant, looked around, and finally headed northbound. That’s better.
Scurrying along the branches, he silently navigated the dense foliage as he followed the man. Of course, flying would have been quicker, but even from sixty feet above, he couldn’t risk the man hearing him. After all, his job was to observe, stay out of sight, and keep him moving toward the village.
Finally, the slow-moving human reached the signpost at the crossroads. Looking around, the creature found a branch to sit on and observe. Does he do everything this slowly? Tap, tap, tap. Stop that, he told himself as he fought to keep his talons from tapping on the branch. Once again, he wasn’t sure how good the human’s hearing was and wasn’t planning to risk Leadbelly’s wrath by being spotted. So, instead, he ground his teeth together.
Don’t go west, he thought, as the man ran his fingers along the words White Chair. I can’t afford another botched assignment. Not that way, either, he thought as the man turned his attention toward the part of the sign that pointed east to Dragon Vale. Leadbelly will smash my beak in the dirt if you go that way. I need to do something. Think! Got it, dragon fruit, he thought as he spotted a vine protruding from a bush below.
Waiting until the man’s back was turned, he dropped, flaring his leathery wings inches above the ground. Silently, he touched down and scurried behind the bush. One wrong move would trigger the dragon vines, resulting in something worse than Leadbelly’s wrath. Carefully, he planned his cut and with a quick talon flick, two kiwi-sized fruit fell into the open pouch hanging from his waist. He sealed the bag, went behind the tree, and scurried up the trunk.
Now, all he needed to do was to toss the fruit onto the path leading to White Oak. The man should hear the fruit hit the ground and hopefully investigate. That would start him moving in the right direction. Then, he’d need to move further down the path and repeat the trick. If luck was on his side, the human would keep moving and lose interest in the other paths.
Now, just to find the perfect spot. There, he thought, spotting a hole in the foliage toward the north. Once in place, he drew back and launched it, but the fruit struck a supple limb that catapulted it directly at the man and thumped him on the head. OH NO! The startled man jumped back, tripped, and landed on his bottom. That was too close, the creature thought as the man landed near the bushes. The human looked about frantically, probably searching for his unseen assailant. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. He looked back. No! Don’t touch the vine! The creature slapped his hand against his forehead. He touched it.
One tug was all it took to trigger the dragon vines. They struck with the speed of a viper and constricted around the man like a boa. He was putting up a good fight, but it wouldn’t last long; only the Bergsteiger had the strength to escape the vines. There’s nothing he would enjoy more than to sit back and enjoy the show, but he shuddered to think what Leadbelly would do if the man didn’t make it to the village before the Master’s guards arrived. I’ll never get a proper name if I fail again. More vines shot out, entangling the man’s waist and legs.
Help,
the man cried as the vines dragged him into the bush.
The creature clawed at its head and pulled its skin, trying desperately to devise a plan. I need fire,
he screeched. Frantically, he fluttered from the branch and headed north. A few minutes later, he landed atop the hillside outside the village. Moving into the bushes where he could observe without being seen, he peered through the opening between the two dashu trees, which acted as a gate, and his heart sank as he spotted the dancing shadows on the ground. It was too late. Even now his worthless brothers were awake and very active. From how their shadows behaved, some were practicing the Wiggletwig’s crude fighting style, which amounted to little more than midair tussles with a heavy dose of clawing and biting.
Perhaps he could sneak around the west side of the village. It’d be risky and slow going with dragon vines, but that wouldn’t work either. Even from his position, he could see several sets of yellow eyes shining in the darkness on the village's far side, undoubtedly harvesting grubs for the evening feast. He could try to fly east and enter the woods from the Dragon Vale side, but that’d take too long. I’ll never get a torch without one of my idiotic brothers spotting me!
Nameless, you sneaky scoundrel,
a crackly voice said. Aren’t you supposed to be following the human?
Dungspitter,
Nameless hissed. The idiot was a perfect example of why you had to be extra careful how you earned your name. The worst part was he was proud of it. Keep your voice down.
Why should I?
Dungspitter snarled.
Because I’m on a critical mission you idi—
he started to say and paused as the aroma of roasted grubs wafted through the air. Actually, I need your help.
What’s in it for me?
Grubs. Three of mine for the next three nights.
Dungspitter’s yellow eyes flashed green, a sure sign his greedy appetite would buy his help.
What do you want me to do?
he asked, flicking his short black tongue and licking his beak.
Fire.
Fire?
Yes, and I don’t have all night to stand around repeating myself.
You’re in a hurry?
I already said that!
Half your grubs for the next five nights.
You dirty, light-loving newt,
Nameless growled.
Fine, if that’s how you feel,
Dungspitter said and turned away.
Wait,
Nameless screeched. Deal. Just hurry.
4
DRAGON FRUIT
Tom stared at the wooden signpost, trying to make sense of the strange names. White Chair? Dragon Vale? What kind of crazy joke is this? White Oak? He was considering flipping a coin when something hard thumped the top of his head. Startled, he jumped back, tripped, and landed on his back end. Frantically, he looked around. Nothing up, left, right, but behind him….a bright green fruit was lying on the ground near a bush. Tom laughed. The fruit must have fallen from above. Two more of the delicious-looking fruits were hanging from a vine on the bush.
Tom reached out to take fruit when two black vines shot out and wrapped around his arms. Help! Slamming his boots into the ground, he leaned back, pulled, and was effectively at a standstill until more vines wrapped around his waist and legs. His boots carved small ruts in the dirt as the vines dragged him into the bush. Hel
—Tom started to call out as another vine wrapped around his head and mouth.
He squirmed and strained, but the vines tightened the more he struggled. Have to calm down. Need air. Deep breath, breathe out slowly. He exhaled. The vines tightened. This is bad, really bad. Is this how I die? No! In a desperate attempt, he chomped down and gagged as bitter fluid filled his mouth. His stomach turned sour as he swallowed a mouth full of the juice.
Biting the vines had nearly drowned him, but if he could reach his knife. No use; he couldn’t reach into his pants pocket with his arms pinned to his side. Still, he might be able to reach his lighter in his jacket if he could get some slack in the vine around his chest. He flexed. The vine constricted. Any tighter, and he wouldn’t be taking another breath. The last thing he wanted to do was bite into the vine again; however, there didn’t seem to be another option.
Preparing himself for the bitterness, he bit into the vine. Desperately, he tried to ignore the squirming around his arms, chest, and legs. Were they in pain? Shaking the thoughts away, he chomped again and again. Once he chewed through, the other vines spasmed and loosened a little. He spit out the disgusting juice, bit his jacket collar, and little by little worked the sleeve off his shoulder. It slid down his arm, allowing him to reach his lighter. Flick. The tiny flame danced to life, and he placed it under the vine. Something sizzled. The juice? Suddenly, the bush lit up as the vines burned away like a magnesium fuse around his body. Once free, he scrambled away on his hands and knees until he reached the sign, rolled over, and collapsed in the dirt. Reaching up, he touched his neck and hissed through his teeth. The vines had scorched his neck.
He lay still for a while and tried to process the event. No use. Nothing made sense. He looked up. God, I—wait, what does that say? On one of the signs were two words: Bergsteiger, and roughly carved below that, giants. Flipping over, he hopped up and examined the sign pointing north. The word giants—carved seemingly as an afterthought—was intriguing. After spotting the first huge man frozen near the tree, he’d seen several more—similar to the first—on the walk to the signpost. Their village might be abandoned if the giants and Bergsteiger were the same. He weighed his options, of which there weren’t many. After all, he was already lost; that much was certain. At this point, his basic needs were fire, water, shelter, and food, all of which he might find in the Bergsteiger village.
5
GRUBS?
Nameless cautiously worked his way from branch to branch back to the signpost. The journey was painfully slow; several times, he’d nearly tossed the torch and abandoned the human to his fate. And each time, the thought of Leadbelly’s wrath kept him moving along until his destination. Scanning the area, he ensured no prying eyes were watching before dropping from the canopy and thudding to the ground.
I don’t believe it! Dropping the torch, he haphazardly spread the bush, ignoring the potential for remaining vines—a death sentence in most cases—and peered inside. He’s gone,
he screeched and took to the air. And to think I struck a deal with that idiot Dungspitter for nothing! When Leadbelly's done with the human, I'll kill him myself!
His wings flapped furiously as he set out on the western path. If he was really lucky, the man hadn't come this way. After flying halfway, the thought of encountering a hidden patrol caused him to turn back. The Archers of White Chair were generally no threat, but a few could pierce a dragon Fruit from a 100 yards. If the man had chosen this path, he was likely too close to White Chair to be turned back.
If the man hadn’t gone west—and there was no way to know for sure other than finding him elsewhere—that only left north toward the village or east toward the Vale. Of course, he could have backtracked to the south, but Nameless couldn’t see what good that would do, and even if he had, that was the safest possible direction. If he’d gone eastward toward the Vale, Nameless would have plenty of time to track him down and devise a plan to turn him back. Whereas, if the man had turned north he could already be close to the village. Suppose one of his worthless brothers happened to spot the man first. If anyone delivered the news to Leadbelly other than himself—he shuddered at the thought. In that case, it'd be worse than when Dungspitter nearly caused him to drop a flaming gourd on Leadbelly’s head. The beating he’d taken for that debacle had left enough physical and mental scars for a lifetime. With renewed purpose, he shot out toward the north, and luck was on his side, as it turned out.
The man was hiding in the bushes atop the hill outside the village. Nameless’ sudden elation deflated as he remembered he had to report to Leadbelly. Shaking the thoughts away, he ascended into the canopy, the only safe place to avoid his worthless brothers at night.
As he neared the massive fire pit where Leadbelly often sat, heated air rattled the leaves. In other circumstances, it’d be an inviting place to have a nice long nap, but he had work to do. Peering down, he spotted his big-bellied leader reclining on one of the enormous stumps, and he wasn’t alone. Weurgen,