:: Searching for Puck... ::

:: Saturday, November 23, 2002 ::

I awoke this morning from dreams of Puck.

And, in it I thought...

He exists, somewhere...this I know. Already gone is the man of the south, and the man of the east. One had his hair, another his presence...I find my love in pieces of others, and it is my damnation and sufferance, my exile. A perfect feature in an imperfect spawn of my father's enemy. He is here, somewhere, and he is like me. I will find him before my twenty-second year, for that is the year of my death. The ends of my thread lay tattered and unconnected after that, and so I know I will not be alive to continue my search. I must give an heir to the isle, for it is key to the wars. One must be born with our blood on this soil, so if history is to repeat itself, we will be prepared.

A strange dream, indeed.

~Fox Mackenzie

:: Fox 11/23/2002 09:25:00 AM [Say what?] ::
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