"Daddy! Daddy!" I call, running down the hallway to the room at the back of the house where my father Cennanon sits behind his potter's wheel, shaping a clay vase.
He looks up and smiles at me. "What is it, Indiel?"
I twirl around, spreading my arms wide. "Spring!" I sing out happily.
"Come, my little one. We will go see spring together," he laughs, standing and washing the clay off of his hands. He takes my small hand in his own large one, and we walk outside together.

Part Five: Where Rhys is Compared to a Riddle, and Brey Wishes for Answers