I do not usually record stories, but this one has stayed with me for a few turns:

An old man, feeble and frail, walks tiredly through a quiet village. The evening 'rifter kisses lightly at his bronzed skin. His aged body hangs from the once proud bones that hold him aloft, though much closer to the ground than in years past. Supporting his bent frame is a cane, as ancient as the man himself, made of ivory yellowed from the long life. Slowly he walks, each shuffling step guiding him closer to this destiny. In the distance is a small cottage. Smoke billows from a hole in the thatched roof. As his eyes trail down the rising smoke and rest upon the oaken door, colored a deep crimson, a smile forms on his cracked lips. His gaunt form continues on, leaving long cuts in the dirt path from where his feet don't quite rise from the earth.

In the window there is a little girl watching the clouds lazily move overhead. Catching the bobbing head of the traveler, the girl quickly vanishes from the window seat and moments later appears in the doorway.

"GranDa!" She yells, waving an arm over her head. Behind her appears a much older woman, her mother, one arm cradling a large mixing bowl, the opposite hand stirring gently within. Giving a gentle nudge, the mother urges the girl forth, speaking words of love and welcome as the traveler approaches. "Da, we've been waiting for your arrival. Come, the fire is lively and bread awaits to warm your tired body."

The little girl runs to the traveler as shrill laughter bursts forth from behind golden curls. The aged man's smile seems to double in size as the sweet child stops just before him, still bubbling with joy. Lifting a hand, the weary man beckons her forth as he speaks with a hoarse voice. "Come, help your GranDa to the house." Immediately, she bolts to his side and takes his free hand in hers.

"GranDa?" The girl inquires softly.

"Yes, Little One?" The grandfather replies with a hint of joy in his tone.

"Did you bring anything special this time?" She asks in a hurry.

"Of course, Little One. I brought you a wonderful gift. Though, your mother will want to see it as well, so we should probably wait for her, yes?" His gentle tone carries over the short distance, now, between them and the cottage.

"You better believe I want to see it! Hurry along now, the sunrifter is fading quickly." Hearing his words, the mother replies with playful reprimanding.

Time passes, dinner is served, the man's body is warm and full of both food and mirth. The sweet child sits on his lap as he recounts the tales of his most recent journey. Her bright eyes wide and mouth ajar as she soaks up every word he says. Finally, the time has arrived for the gift. He sends her to his bag and has her retrieve a fold of leather from within. Bringing it over to him quickly, her steps light and full of life, she sets it on the table and waits.

"I was given this special item when your GranMa passed from this world, taken to the stars above to shine down on us." He begins softly. The young child stills, suddenly. Behind her, the mother watches with knowing eyes, a sad smile on her lips. Continuing, the man begins to unfold the leather. "Sweet one, this is for you." He pulls the last bit of leather away, revealing a single, forlorn swan feather. The mother's eyes flick to the portrait behind him before hiding from view behind pressed eyelids. "Your Da..." His voice wavers, the sadness in his tone evident. "Your Da, " He begins again, "was a brave, brave man." The child stares at the feather, tears welling in her eyes as she remains still in her place before him. "You know of the conflicts in the land, and of his service in the militia." The aged man pauses, lifting the feather and extending it to her. "My Son loved you with every fiber of his being, and as he breathed his last breath, your name was on his tongue professing his love for you once more."

The child, sullen, reaches for the feather gingerly, unable to speak and so she simply nods. Her mother comes up behind her, kneeling and slipping her arms around her, whispering words of encouragement and love into the young one's ear.

The family embraced one another, as a caring and loving family does. They continued to speak, laughter rising once more in the well-lit home. Finally, in the wee hours of the night, the last candle is extinguished, and all within fall to the peaceful slumber of a protected village. Above them, two stars seem to shine a bit brighter, casting their light over the home.

*A line is drawn here.*

That story will likely never be shared as it is so long, but there it is.