Back To The ClearingThe river still lay ahead. It was late in the afternoon and a few lazy clouds had moved in. A buzz of insects had grown gradually louder, almost a buzzing hum, distinct in the grassland surrounding us. Beyond the grassland dense tall bushes grew peppered with tiny red berries.
“Why would the immortals do such a terrible thing?” I asked George as we came to a stop in the clearing. “I mean, how could they torture people like that, over and over for hundreds of years?” It occurred to me, as I asked that, how comfortable I was becoming talking to a snake.
Horace caught up with us a little out of breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I was lost monitoring the history group for a while.”
I glanced at him. “That’s right you have a Soul in your brain.”
“You may have one soon too. You
