"I have heard he is here" I told my younger, braver, brother, "we should see him."
The Wizard of the forest summoned a member of my family every time he came to our village. We declined, mostly borne from fear. My greatest grandfather challenged the Wizard hundreds of years before.
We decided to go to the forest to answer the Wizard's calling.
We raced to the forest on horseback, hooves moving with some trepidation as they entered a strange, new environment. At the mouth of the forest, the air darkened as the branches reached down to brush our faces, temporarily blocking our view. We felt the temperature fall as we travelled further in.
Deep inside the forest, we saw his temporary home. A home magically cut inside the largest, oak, tree trunk. The ornate carvings covered the outside and, if we were brave enough to enter, the Wizard was waiting.
There he sat, wizened actually - older than we expected. He spoke eloquently, rythmically almost, as wise as our greatest grandfather...
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