farm to take over and raise children and exist beyond the threat of the cities? Who shall it be?”

“Why,” said a voice from the midst of great beatings of wings at the far end of the table, “should it not be me?” said Uncle Einar. “I have the capacity of flight and can make it partly there if you assist me, take hold of my soul, seize on my mind, and help me to travel.”

“Yes, Uncle Einar,” said Cecy. “Indeed you, the winged one, are proper. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” said Uncle Einar.

“Well then,” said Cecy, “let us begin.”

The End