The Moon at Half Light

"Do you think," interrupted Hillary Storm knowing hers was a question needing consideration, "Hand and Shore know we are telling their story?" The storyteller's mouth was half open, or half shut ready for the next installment. Fittingly the Moon was at half light as the girl Hillary Storm stood to answer the kettle that was now fully at roar. Hillary Storm was well schooled at tea-making and took the liberty of choosing Nettles without asking. The changing season was tickling her throat, and the storyteller could always use a soothing tea to keep her voice in telling timbre. While the plump blue tea pot steeped Grandmother Nettle the storyteller came up with this, "A story is as personal as your pillow, Hillary Storm." Knowing how fond the girl was of a good position to her head for dreams, the answer fit the question. "Characters in a story have a life to live and a walk to walk. In the telling of their adventures and their quests it is almost certain a layer of their ... mm ... their soul knows something or someone is tracking."

The tea was giving off its own particular telling, this time the storyteller rose and reached for a teaspoon to dip into the luscious blackberry honey she favored. "I believe Hand and Shore know this story is being heard. But, I doubt they look over their shoulders for us." The day was well into the after mid sun time, and the Moon was in the sky above them. "Alight in the day the Moon's not far away. Kept only for nights a secret delight. Caught unaware 'tis the Moonshine at Noon that is special. Look there!" 

Let's learn a bit more about Hare.