I've always known that my brother was someone special, someone not quite like the rest of us—it showed. Believe me, it showed. Not in anything he did on a conscious level, mind you, and he never acted like he thought he was better in any way than the rest of us. Far from it. I think he wasn't sure himself just why he was special. Okay, he knew, but he didn't know, or he didn't believe. I'm not saying this right, I know, but it's not easy to explain. He had this look about him, sort of far away,
"The girls are named Cheyenne, Shappa, Izusa, Kiona, and Peta. I have two others coming shortly. They are Tiponya and Tala. Cheyenne is a Meda. A prophet of her people...a priestess," a voice intoned dryly.
Then another took over. "The boys are named Bavol, Boyce, Chase, Coyone, Dominique, Durril, Elsu...and Durril is the Drakkar of his people...a fortuneteller."
At the end of these lists the men speaking were escorted out. Someone else began to speak softly but fir
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