“I’ll protect you, Young Duncan. They won’t be able to reach you here.”
“Thanks Phillip. Should I call you Linden? Or Rosedale?”
“Either one now.” He glances over at the black boy sitting atop a burning pyramid of wood. “At least you’re immune to fire here.”
“True,” proclaims warm but not hot Duncan. He stirs slightly to get more comfortable on his perch. “I know you’ll figure it out. Because you have such a big head about you. I’ve seen it again and again. Over and over.
Never gets old.”
“Thank you. I’ll be here all week.”
Sunklands 