The old grenz in the corner of the inn stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back in his chair. He takes a sip of his mulled wine, pauses, tilts his head as if listening to the pop and crack of the log on the fire. Finally, he sets down his cup, leans forward, and clears his throat.
How shall I begin?
Shall we start by saying “once upon a time?” Stories such as these often begin that way, but no. Not this one. That is far too vague. If I started this story like that, or something else like “Long ago and far away” you will think the story is not true. That the old man is making things up again. That won’t do. No sir, not at all. I will be as specific as possible, for this is a true story.
Sixty-two years, 7 months, and….5 days ago I think, there was a village in the land of Genn. In this village lived Ayla, the daughter of Aster. Aster did not give birth to Ayla, but in their village it was known: Aster is Ayla’s mother, and there was truth in that.
Fred Hesser 