My Stories
Brea’s Crossing
Brea sat on the back of the wagon, watching the dusty road roll away behind the caravan. As he rode, he blew idly into his recorder. Pure tones drifted behind the wagon train in a swirling path. He paused in his playing when he felt something odd. Brea looked up at the sky and saw the part in the clouds, almost perpendicular to the road. They were about to cross a leyline.
