bear

Lá na gCuach 
(Cuckoo Day)

One mornin' just as I was about to take me tea me grandkids came rushin' to me in all a panic.

'Granda, wee Beacha is bein' eaten by a bear!' shouted Darowva.

Hjartoreldr. My friend, my first clansman. The one at my back, the one I will soon deck. I have not forgotten your face and my fist are due a meeting. I look forward to seeing your blood!

You swept into my life like a salt sea breeze under a desert sun.

It was in the limited light of foredawn I approached our point of assembly; a place we had convened on many a morning at exactly the same time. As I suspected, our youngest and most flamboyant comrade was already there, waiting upon his favoured perch. As I entered the stone enclosure, he looked up from his journal and lifted a hand to tip his elegant, feathered hat in his usual greeting.

Talgoy! Wake up... come on you lazy pup, wake up! —say an old voice as Talgoy started to open his eyes. When he see the face of an old and bearded man with a glass eye on his right he immediately yells, freaked out.

My last two days have been fairly interesting. I have not only met a newly arrived aducated healer, I dare say doctor, though I am beginning to come in acceptance to the fact that I am surrounded by idiots.