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Wajas: Part 1: Patience Wearing Thin


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It had turned very warm in the later weeks of summer.   High overhead the glow of the midday sun turned the cloudless blue sky pale with its radiance.   Those young and old who would normally spend these hours at play or work had instead retreated into the cool of dens or the shade of the trees still standing defiantly green and lush of leaf—save perhaps those wajas who thrived in the warmth of the sun.   But this was typical of summer in Lunaria.   It was slowly nearing the time of cooler days, colder nights, and the bright reds and golds of fall.   For now, the sun still reigned.   But as always, the heat could not pierce the dense canopy of the sacred grove of the Pear Tree.   Here, the shadows remained cool and still, the air sweet to the nose, the duff across the ground soft underfoot.   The great tree stood as it always did, its leaves glimmering in a spectrum of color, its crop of pears heavy and juicy.   Soon

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