The small giants hear the first scream through the walls of their cabins. The grown giants, those who have proudly carried their names for cycles innumerable, hear it over the roar of their nightly bonfire. As snow plummets from the trees, they allow themselves a moment of plausible deniability – surely the Tribe of the Forge is celebrating some new innovation in the field of metalworking, surely The Giant hasn’t had a fruitful day on that damn deaded lake.
Then they hear the second scream and confuse it for a rally cry. Three giants – Bass Watcher, Walleye Slayer, and Whitetail Breaker – rush away from the bonfire to the cabins to ensure the small giants do not wander off into the hungry darkness of winter.
When The Giant frees his pulverized right hand and unleashes his third and final scream, those three giants crest the treacherous hill and begin to follow along the shallow trench left behind by The Giant’s sled.
This has been the nineteenth subchapter of the third chapter of the book The Monksville Chronicles. Here is everything you need to know about it:
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
The Hillside Commons has a Facebook page. Here’s that.
If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~