Icefire

The more we nurture the planet, the better and more natural a life we'll have.

Stories have a unique power, David. The Inuit believe they can capture souls.

People joked that Zanna had only come to Scrubbley because she’d missed the train to Hogwarts. What

Scrubbley because she’d missed the train to Hogwarts.

Creativity is the auma of the universe, David. A good story, written with heart and feeling, can touch many people and raise their awareness of global issues.

Use your powers, girl. A true sibyl can reach out into the underworld -- in more senses than you imagine. Dream it. Let your mind cross over. Dream you can see his cold, stiff corpse. His bones crumbling to windblown ash. His lifeblood seeping into the dirt.

I don’t know — yet. But Lorel wouldn’t say it without good reason. Don’t look now, but there’s a squirrel on the fence.” David turned his head. A pepper-gray squirrel was balancing neatly on the flat bar between two railing hoops. “Oh, wow. It’s Snigger — I think.” Chuk! went the squirrel, flagging its tail. It lifted one paw and appeared to smile.

Leaning forward, Bergstrom said, “I’m asking you. Come on, give me a folk legend. Anything. You have to have a story hidden away somewhere.” David shook his head. “You’re not serious, surely?” Bergstrom studied him carefully for a moment. “You forget, I live and work among the Inuit. Stories