CHAPTER FIVE
The Prologue
Raistlin and Caramon sat on their front porch, watching the sun set through the leaves of the Vallenwoods. They had sat in awkward silence for more than five minutes when, finally, Caramon spoke up.
"Sure is a pretty sunset," he volunteered. "I mean, I haven't seen a sky that color in a long time, all red and gold with the clouds. You know, Raist, that cloud is almost the same color you are..." Caramon trailed off at the menacing look his twin gave him.
"Shut up, Caramon," Raistlin snapped.
Caramon sniffled defensively. "Come on, Raist - it isn't that bad."
Raistlin crossed his arms. "You're not the one stuck looking like this!"
Caramon patted his brother on the arm comfortingly. "Well, look on the bright side, Raist - the flour washed off pretty well... and I'm sure the paint will wear off eventually."
Raistlin snorted. "Caramon, you aren't helping."
"At least not very many people saw you walking around wearing that pink shawl... As a matter of fact, as soon as Flint stops laughing, I'm sure nobody'll ever talk about it at all," Caramon tried cheerfully.
"It isn't fair," Raistlin complained, trying his best to ignore his brother's last attempt to console him. "If it weren't for that awful costume I was wearing when I woke up on the floor at the inn, I wouldn't have believed any of it was true." He sighed in resignation. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," he said, gingerly rubbing the two large bruises on his forehead.
Caramon grinned a little at his brother. "You should have seen yourself, Raist - trying to cast spells with mum's cookbook." He snickered. "You were pretty silly looking."
Raistlin rolled his eyes. "Enough. Go get me a cold cloth for my head, Caramon."
Caramon nodded and jumped up to get the cloth for his brother, but he paused and turned around in the doorway. "Um... Raist?"
"Yes, my brother?"
Caramon fidgeted uncomfortably before asking, "Raist, are you... um... afraid of bunnies?"
Raistlin stiffened suddenly, and slowly, refusing to look at his brother, replied, "I don't want to talk about it."
Caramon smiled a little to himself. "Whatever you say, Raist."
1
The Prologue
Raistlin and Caramon sat on their front porch, watching the sun set through the leaves of the Vallenwoods. They had sat in awkward silence for more than five minutes when, finally, Caramon spoke up.
"Sure is a pretty sunset," he volunteered. "I mean, I haven't seen a sky that color in a long time, all red and gold with the clouds. You know, Raist, that cloud is almost the same color you are..." Caramon trailed off at the menacing look his twin gave him.
"Shut up, Caramon," Raistlin snapped.
Caramon sniffled defensively. "Come on, Raist - it isn't that bad."
Raistlin crossed his arms. "You're not the one stuck looking like this!"
Caramon patted his brother on the arm comfortingly. "Well, look on the bright side, Raist - the flour washed off pretty well... and I'm sure the paint will wear off eventually."
Raistlin snorted. "Caramon, you aren't helping."
"At least not very many people saw you walking around wearing that pink shawl... As a matter of fact, as soon as Flint stops laughing, I'm sure nobody'll ever talk about it at all," Caramon tried cheerfully.
"It isn't fair," Raistlin complained, trying his best to ignore his brother's last attempt to console him. "If it weren't for that awful costume I was wearing when I woke up on the floor at the inn, I wouldn't have believed any of it was true." He sighed in resignation. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," he said, gingerly rubbing the two large bruises on his forehead.
Caramon grinned a little at his brother. "You should have seen yourself, Raist - trying to cast spells with mum's cookbook." He snickered. "You were pretty silly looking."
Raistlin rolled his eyes. "Enough. Go get me a cold cloth for my head, Caramon."
Caramon nodded and jumped up to get the cloth for his brother, but he paused and turned around in the doorway. "Um... Raist?"
"Yes, my brother?"
Caramon fidgeted uncomfortably before asking, "Raist, are you... um... afraid of bunnies?"
Raistlin stiffened suddenly, and slowly, refusing to look at his brother, replied, "I don't want to talk about it."
Caramon smiled a little to himself. "Whatever you say, Raist."
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