A/N: This and the following "chapters" are actually all, for the most part, stand-alone short stories (aka drabbles) that I wrote for a community… um, if you like them, or even if you don't, heh, you might want to check out my Ard Patrinell fanfic.  Or my Triss fanfic, but that one is really bad and corny, since it's so old.  But yeah.

Particular notes on this one: Walker Boh, pondering his future as a Druid.  Rated G because, well, it's just him pondering.  Joy.

Reviews would be nice.  XD

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Rain

Alone.

He was used to it by now, sitting at a long table in Paranor's main hallway, eating by himself. Well, Rumor was there too, but that didn't count. Moor cats weren't exactly the kind of things to be called company.

He sipped silently at his wine and listened to the rain pour down outside.

There was nothing to do these days but to wait. He was stuck in this stone palace, biding his time to create another Druid Council. By the time that happened, all his relatives might be dead. Even their children. And so on and so forth. A Druid must be patient.

"Come here, Rumor," he whispered, clicking his tongue. He held out some meat to lure the moor cat over, wanting someone to pet. Rumor came obligingly, and swallowed the chunk of meat with one gulp. "Is it tasty, precious?" he asked.

The cat stared at him.

For a moment, he thought he saw someone other than Rumor. Or at least, he wished he did. It had been so long since he had had human companionship.

Calling a moor cat "precious"…so this is what I have sunk to…

But there was no one else. There would probably be no one else, ever.

He stared at the wineglass, until it was trembling with intensity and finally burst.

Walker Boh, High Druid and breaker of wineglasses.

Rumor moved out of the way as he stood up and walked to the library. The Druid Histories were here. He'd read all of them, and to his dismay, none of them had had what he would have considered a "happy ending". Tay Trefenwyd. Bremen. Allanon. Cogline.

He wondered if his name would be next on the list of people who gave up their lives to save the Four Lands. He didn't really want that. All he wanted was to be normal. To not be a scion of Shannara. To not have magic. To not be a Druid. To not be under the sway of Allanon.

Wishes and dreams, he thought. Wishes and dreams.

And all the while, the rain continued to fall, a tribute to the gloom.