"Boom!"
A distant rumble jolted Farolynch awake. He sprang up, but his hand found nothing to brace against. Losing his balance, he slipped off the branch. Fortunately, his legs tightened in an instant, clamping firmly around it, and he used his waist muscles to haul himself back up.
It wasn't raining, and there were no storm clouds. That hadn't been thunder.
Farolynch gazed toward Terrazzo City, where a distinct glow lit the night. With a commotion like that, had the Holy Temple begun to act?
A week later, Farolynch arrived in another small town. He bought a fresh set of clothes and found an inn where he could rest and wash up. By the time he went out again, he looked perfectly presentable. He was still wanted, but with a little makeup and a disguise for his aura, practically no one could recognize him.
Farolynch had a reason for coming here: a postcard, one that had stirred something within him. He was searching for a tree pictured on it. He had already checked seven or eight similar places, but they all seemed to be wrong.
That evening, just after sunset, Farolynch walked through the little town, following the street before taking a dirt path along the river. Something about this place felt familiar, as though he had been here before.
There were few pedestrians along the way. He wondered whether today was some special occasion here.
Suddenly, excitement surged through Farolynch. He had spotted an immense tree beside the river. It looked a little different now, but he was certain he had seen it in his dreams.
Farolynch hurried over to the tree. It was an old oak with an astonishingly thick trunk; even six or seven people might not have been able to encircle it with their arms. Its