Part Eight  July 22, 2016


“He’s the kid whose drink Misandra added the mushroom powder to,” said a man with malice in his stupored voice.

“Let’s see what he’s got in the sack,” said another.

Bran could hear them moving cautiously towards him.  One slipped and cursed.  He felt no fear of these men.  He could tell by their voices and their hesitant movements that they were foxes pretending to be wolves.  A finger poked his side.

“He’s asleep,” the first man whispered.  With slight tugs the men began to pull the sack from under Bran’s head.  Defiantly he grabbed hold of his dagger and rolled onto his feet.  He swiped at the nearest man.

“Get away!  He’s mad!” shouted one of the men with long dark hair that mingled with his beard.

“Piss’n mule he’s gonna slice you Roberto!” the other man shouted.  Bran smiled darkly at the man now talking.  Both men began to run away.  He laughed to himself at the obese bodies of the men as they slipped on the grass.  Deep inside he felt calm, and knew that on the outside he was fiery and dangerous now.  The alcohol and mushroom powder in his blood along with the excitement gave him energy to start his journey again.  Although it was dark he felt invincible and all knowing.  With glaring eyes that defied all creatures to attack him he stumbled deeper into Cranny’s Forest singing the legend of Cranny:

Thirty feet tall was Cranny

A giant to the giants

Taller than the Trolls of the Emperor’s Land

Tall as a tree


Cranny came here to plant the red trees

To be away from the menacing Ogres

For Cranny loved the woods

She had no use for the sword

So left when the Ogres came to burn her home


So give a little thanks to the Giant, Cranny

For she planted the forest that grows

By your home

By your home


All the other words to the song escaped his memory.  Soon he was too tired to walk any longer.  He sat with his back against a tree covered in knots and ate a carrot from his sack.  He grew so sleepy that he laid his head on the ground.

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