One old shaman was nodding, his head apparently filled with the sleep of age.

Beside him sat one who obviously thought so: the old shaman, Grind.

I think this is what that old shaman told us back in the cave, Rabbit.

It was second nature to the old shaman to create dramatic effects, almost instinct to know just the right moment.

There was something comforting about watching her treat the old shaman.

The old shaman strained, his body shaking with the effort.

The old shaman speaks now for the first time.

And he sees again the dark steady eyes of the old shaman.

The old shaman's smile grew thinner as his eyes narrowed.

She covered the old shaman's hand with hers, grateful for the contact.