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Circulation: 197,593,483 |
Issue: 991 | 8th day of Gathering, Y25 |
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Headlines "A Molten Friend" by misspolar It was dark when the little Starry Zafara awoke. A little too dark. “Drat,” she thought. The clocktower light was out. It was 6 a.m. in Neovia, the sky not yet as light as it should be. You see, in Neovia, the sun almost never shined. The misty town did not stay in total night around the clock, but rather in a grey, dusk-like state when there should be brilliant daylight. The clock tower that loomed over the sleepy town normally served as the main source of light in the sky. Today, not so much. The Starry Zafara hastily rose from the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smoothing her fur in one fell motion. She slipped on a cape, and quickly scampered to the door of her small, stone cottage. As the keeper of the clocktower, it was her responsibility to make sure the town’s most important landmark was maintained, and today she had her work cut out for her. It was a bit of a lonely job, but someone had to do it. Scurrying along the quiet cobblestone streets, it was only a short time before she came to a large wooden door at the base of the tower. Her keys jangled as she searched for the near-ancient skeleton key that would unlock it. Finding the right one, the door groaned and ached as it opened, clearly having been resting for quite some time. “I should really get to oiling those hinges,”
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