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Dawnís light pierced the skies and a keening wind whistled through Castle Clunís walls, ruffling the pages of a journal that lay open on a low table. Bryn blinked his eyes and glanced over at his grandfatherís journal. He would never have known the wonders that extended beyond the castle if he had not found the book hidden under dust covered tapestries in the recesses of the keep, secreted there as if on purpose. Reading it had made his wanderlust all the stronger.
The quests Grandfather wrote of were fantastic, and Father had accompanied him on many of them. Why hadnít Father ever spoken of them, or of Grandfather? The smack of hooves and the whickers of horses echoed against the sandstone of the bailey. They wound their way into Brynís room and thoughts.
ďFatherís readying to leave,Ē he said in alarm. Bolting from his bed, he swiped away the lock of black hair that crossed his forehead and pulled on his tunic and breeches. Shoving his feet into his boots, he stuffed his satchel with traveling clothes and snatched up his cloak. He would ask again. Maybe Father would say yes this time.