You have woken me, 'twas a deep sleep I was having.
The likes of my kin enjoy the darkness ... we bear no fear of the deep.
Is that the thing you believe is my greatest fear then, Storyteller?
The fear of the deep?
Oh, darlin' you were born to muck about in the deep. There is a sort of magnet thread within you, seeks the dark. Has a something to do with that nature of your being what wears many names.
Hmmmm....you are a sharp knife.
(The description sat there as the Storyteller simply blinked her eyes and looked more closely at Sally of the Round Body.)
That knife is meant to shear you as a shepardess ... to pull away the fleece that need be used ... others will handle the wool, and revel in the warmth of your fleece. Who or where it happens, you cannot control that part of t'ings. Can you be parted with it now ... the fleece? That be your next question.
Is there more?
More?
More questions for me.
Well now, the questions back and forward there are plenty. Oh, perhaps the one more that you can sip with that more tea be this one: What is your name, Sally Round? What is it be your more sacred of names that waits until you be wise enough to wear it.
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