THE WOODLAND VILLAGE sat less than a mile from the edge of the cliffs that overlooked the aqua waters of the Alura Sea. The massive trees that sheltered the village from the fierce winter storms broke free to reveal a large central community area hidden under the canopy of the large trees. With the winter upon them, the dense snowfall blanketed the roofs of tiny rustic cottages scattered around the village. Tirana, Gravid’s wife stood outside the gathering area and stared toward the trail that led to the schoolhouse.
She turned to the young man standing beside her. Her son Kaleb was an even mixture between her delicate features and his father’s rough exterior. Kaleb’s eyes were soft and kind. His bearing was tall and proud. The boy had tenderness in his eyes that his father rarely showed.
