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Back to the gravity field of the mill-wheel. Gravity is a mild and shape-shifting force.

The field keeps vigil — ears in the trees, eyes in the grasses. On watch for Clever's restoration.

 

Wood listens.
Meadow looks.
Birds hover above.
Vixen crouches below, in the root of a dead sycamore.

The Alchymist roosts in its hollow bole, that wily philosopher having taken on the guise of Lord Judas’ bird, a wise and wicked owl. Being averse to daylight, he prefers the dim interior of the tree.
His madness grips the field. Small birds know it and are terrorized.

Clever (never a girl to be silent): I am returned! To save Vixen from her angry lover.

Owl-Chymist: First, let us address your questions.

 

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Clever’s Road 40: GB0059