Berilac
Beril crouched down by Fippi, who had turned his attention now to the eating of the apple. ‘Well done, Master Fippi,’ he said, smiling at the lad whose cheeks at crimsoned a bit from the attention and from pride. The Ranger showed the youngsters the place he had marked on his diagram of the hedge, and read the notes he had printed beside it. His finger followed along under the words as he spoke them, and Fippi nodded his head at how Beril had captured what he said in word and pictures.
Apples in hands, they moved at a fair pace northward toward the West Gate. Beril walked at a measured pace, while the children ran before and behind like little shore birds skittering on the sands.
They were about halfway to the gatekeeper’s lodge, when one of the children tugged at his sleeve, halting him, and drawing the group’s attention to another place in the hedge . . .
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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