Chapter 6
Coloring the Canvas

∞

“The Gods were never satisfied with just one world,” Panpar began. Right from the beginning there was no doubt that whatever story this simple looking older man was going to tell, was going to be a long one. Their Aunt Veranda had called him old, and indeed he had an older appearance to him, but that appearance of old was more of a perception, than a reality. It was a perception created through wisdom, and early greying hair, but in reality the man couldn’t be older than forty human years. Veranda herself was older than that.

In truth, he not only wasn’t old, but his body was also fit. (A fact hidden to them all by the loose, baggy sack that he wore as clothing). He didn’t return the wooden table; didn’t sit at the hard chair at all, but instead turned Veranda’s rocking chair toward the table, and sat in that instead. It was another indicator that the story they were in for was a long one.

Once he was sat, and comfortable, he reached through a slit in the side of his makeshift outfit, pulled out a small pouch, rolled some of the tobacco into a moist brown leaf, and lit

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THE END