- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
[A] well-handled melodramatic story of hairsbreadth escapes.
Jane ran her cattle business and bossed the cowboys who rode the expanse of purple sage around her prosperous Utah ranch. Then she dared disobey the Mormons who ordered her to marry grim, brutal Elder Tull. Now her stock was being stampeded and her men disappearing. Then the mysterious gunslinger called Lassiter rode into town.
"[A] well-handled melodramatic story of hairsbreadth escapes." —Booklist
"Poignant in its emotional qualities." —The New York Times
"A powerful work, exceedingly well written." —The Brooklyn Eagle
"Episodes of bravery, scoundrelism, chivalry, horsemanship, and ready shooting...make up the body of his story." —The New York World
Riders of the Purple Sage
A SHARP clip-clop of iron-shod hoofs deadened and died away, and clouds of yellow dust drifted from under the cottonwoods out over the sage.
Jane Withersteen gazed down the wide purple slope with dreamy and troubled eyes. A rider had just left her and it was his message that held her thoughtful and almost sad, awaiting the churchmen who were coming to resent and attack her right to befriend a Gentile.
She wondered if the unrest and strife that had lately come to the little village of Cottonwoods was to involve her. And then she sighed, remembering that her father had founded this remotest border settlement of southern Utah and that he had left it to her. She owned all the ground and many of the cottages. Withersteen House was hers, and the great ranch, with its thousands of cattle, and the swiftest horses of the sage. To her belonged Amber Spring, the water which gave verdure and beauty to the village and made living possible on that wild purple upland waste. She could not escape being involved by whatever befell Cottonwoods.
That year, 1871, had marked a change which had been gradually coming in the lives of the peace-loving Mormons of the border. Glaze—Stone Bridge—Sterling, villages to the north, had risen against the invasion of Gentile settlers and the forays of rustlers. There had been opposition to the one and fighting with the other. And now Cottonwoods had begun to wake and bestir itself and grow hard.
Jane prayed that the tranquillity and sweetness of her life would not be permanently disrupted. She meant to do so much more for her people than she had done. She wanted the sleepy quiet pastoral days to last always. Trouble between the Mormons and the Gentiles of the community would make her unhappy. She was Mormon-born, and she was a friend to poor and unfortunate Gentiles. She wished only to go on doing good and being happy. And she thought of what that great ranch meant to her. She loved it all—the grove of cottonwoods, the old stone house, the amber-tinted water, and the droves of shaggy, dusty horses and mustangs, the sleek, clean-limbed, blooded racers, and the browsing herds of cattle and the lean, sun-browned riders of the sage.
While she waited there she forgot the prospect of untoward change. The bray of a lazy burro broke the afternoon quiet, and it was comfortingly suggestive of the drowsy farmyard, and the open corrals, and the green alfalfa fields. Her clear sight intensified the purple sage-slope as it rolled before her. Low swells of prairie-like ground sloped up to the west. Dark, lonely cedar-trees, few and far between, stood out strikingly, and at long distances ruins of red rocks. Farther on, up the gradual slope, rose a broken wall, a huge monument, looming dark purple and stretching its solitary, mystic way, a wavering line that faded in the north. Here to the westward was the light and color and beauty. Northward the slope descended to a dim line of canons from which rose an up-flinging of the earth, not mountainous, but a vast heave of purple uplands, with ribbed and fan-shaped walls, castle-crowned cliffs, and gray escarpments.Over it all crept the lengthening, waning afternoon shadows.
The rapid beat of hoofs recalled Jane Withersteen to the question at hand. A group of riders cantered up the lane, dismounted, and threw their bridles. They were seven in number, and Tull, the leader, a tall, dark man, was an elder of Jane's church.
"Did you get my message?" he asked, curtly.
"Yes," replied Jane.
"I sent word I'd give that rider Venters half an hour to come down to the village. He didn't come."
"He knows nothing of it," said Jane. "I didn't tell him. I've been waiting here for you."
"Where is Venters?"
"I left him in the courtyard."
"Here, Jerry," called Tull, turning to his men, "take the gang and fetch Venters out here if you have to rope him."
The dusty-booted and long-spurred riders clanked noisily into the grove of cottonwoods and disappeared in the shade.
"Elder Tull, what do you mean by this?" demanded Jane. "If you must arrest Venters you might have the courtesy to wait till he leaves my home. And if you do arrest him it will be adding insult to injury. It's absurd to accuse Venters of being mixed up in that shooting fray in the village last night. He was with me at the time. Besides, he let me take charge of his guns. You're only using this as a pretext. What do you mean to do to Venters?"
"I'll tell you presently," replied Tull. "But first tell me why you defend this worthless rider?"
"Worthless!" exclaimed Jane, indignantly. "He's nothing of the kind. He was the best rider I ever had. There's not a reason why I shouldn't champion him and every reason why I should. It's no little shame to me, Elder Tull, that through my friendship he has roused the enmity of my people and become an outcast. Besides, I owe him eternal gratitude for saving the life of little Fay."
"I've heard of your love for Fay Larkin and that youintend to adopt her. But—Jane Withersteen, the child is a Gentile!"
"Yes. But, Elder, I don't love the Mormon children any less because I love a Gentile child. I shall adopt Fay if her mother will give her to me."
"I'm not so much against that. You can give the child Mormon teaching," said Tull. "But I'm sick of seeing this fellow Venters hang around you. I'm going to put a stop to it. You've so much love to throw away on these beggars of Gentiles that I've an idea you might love Venters."
Tull spoke with the arrogance of a Mormon whose power could not be brooked and with the passion of a man in whom jealousy had kindled a consuming fire.
"Maybe I do love him," said Jane. She felt both fear and anger stir her heart. "I'd never thought of that. Poor fellow! He certainly needs someone to love him."
"This'll be a bad day for Venters unless you deny that," returned Tull, grimly.
Tull's men appeared under the cottonwoods and led a young man out into the lane. His ragged clothes were those of an outcast. But he stood tall and straight, his wide shoulders flung back, with the muscles of his bound arms rippling and a blue flame of defiance in the gaze he bent on Tull.
For the first time Jane Withersteen felt Venters's real spirit. She wondered if she would love this splendid youth. Then her emotion cooled to the sobering sense of the issue at stake.
"Venters, will you leave Cottonwoods at once and forever?" asked Tull, tensely.
"Why?" rejoined the rider.
"Because I order it."
Venters laughed in cool disdain.
The red leaped to Tull's dark cheek.
"If you don't go it means your ruin," he said, sharply.
"Ruin!" exclaimed Venters, passionately. "Haven't you already ruined me? What do you call ruin? A year ago I was a rider. I had horses and cattle of my own. I had agood name in Cottonwoods. And now when I come into the village to see this woman you set your men on me. You hound me. You trail me as if I were a rustler. I've no more to lose—except my life."
"Will you leave Utah?"
"Oh! I know," went on Venters, tauntingly, "it galls you, the idea of beautiful Jane Withersteen being friendly to a poor Gentile. You want her all yourself. You're a wiving Mormon. You have use for her—and Withersteen House and Amber Spring and seven thousand head of cattle!"
Tull's hard jaw protruded, and rioting blood corded the veins of his neck.
"Once more. Will you go?"
"Then I'll have you whipped within an inch of your life," replied Tull, harshly. "I'll turn you out in the sage. And if you ever come back you'll get worse."
Venters's agitated face grew coldly set and the bronze changed to gray.
Jane impulsively stepped forward. "Oh! Elder Tull!" she cried. "You won't do that!"
Tull lifted a shaking finger toward her.
"That'll do from you. Understand, you'll not be allowed to hold this boy to a friendship that's offensive to your Bishop. Jane Withersteen, your father left you wealth and power. It has turned your head. You haven't yet come to see the place of Mormon women. We've reasoned with you, borne with you. We've patiently waited. We've let you have your fling, which is more than I ever saw granted to a Mormon woman. But you haven't come to your senses. Now, once for all, you can't have any further friendship with Venters He's going to be whipped, and he's got to leave Utah!"
"Oh! Don't whip him! It would be dastardly!" implored Jane, with slow certainty of her failing courage.
Tull always blunted her spirit, and she grew conscious that she had feigned a boldness which she did not possess. He loomed up now in different guise, not as a jealoussuitor, but embodying the mysterious despotism she had known from childhood—the power of her creed.
"Venters, will you take your whipping here or would you rather go out in the sage?" asked Tull. He smiled a flinty smile that was more than inhuman, yet seemed to give out of its dark aloofness a gleam of righteousness.
"I'll take it here—if I must," said Venters. "But by God!—Tull, you'd better kill me outright. That'll be a dear whipping for you and your praying Mormons. You'll make me another Lassiter!"
The strange glow, the austere light which radiated from Tull's face, might have been a holy joy at the spiritual conception of exalted duty. But there was something more in him, barely hidden, a something personal and sinister, a deep of himself, an engulfing abyss. As his religious mood was fanatical and inexorable, so would his physical hate be merciless.
"Elder, I—I repent my words," Jane faltered. The religion in her, the long habit of obedience, of humility, as well as agony of fear, spoke in her voice. "Spare the boy!" she whispered.
"You can't save him now," replied Tull, stridently.
Her head was bowing to the inevitable. She was grasping the truth, when suddenly there came, in inward constriction, a hardening of gentle forces within her breast. Like a steel bar it was, stiffening all that had been soft and weak in her. She felt a birth in her of something new and unintelligible. Once more her strained gaze sought the sage-slopes. Jane Withersteen loved that wild and purple wilderness. In times of sorrow it had been her strength, in happiness its beauty was her continual delight. In her extremity she found herself murmuring, "Whence cometh my help!" It was a prayer, as if forth from those lonely purple reaches and walls of red and clefts of blue might ride a fearless man, neither creed-bound nor creed-mad, who would hold up a restraining hand in the faces of her ruthless people.
The restless movements of Tull's men suddenly quieteddown. Then followed a low whisper, a rustle, a sharp exclamation.
"Look!" said one, pointing to the west.
Jane Withersteen wheeled and saw a horseman, silhouetted against the western sky, come riding out of the sage. He had ridden down from the left, in the golden glare of the sun, and had been unobserved till close at hand. An answer to her prayer!
"Do you know him? Does any one know him?" questioned Tull, hurriedly.
His men looked and looked, and one by one shook their heads.
"He's come from far," said one.
"Thet's a fine hoss," said another.
"A strange rider."
"Huh! He wears black leather," added a fourth.
With a wave of his hand, enjoining silence, Tull stepped forward in such a way that he concealed Venters.
The rider reined in his mount, and with a lithe forward-slipping action appeared to reach the ground in one long step. It was a peculiar movement in its quickness and inasmuch that while performing it the rider did not swerve in the slightest from a square front to the group before him.
"Look!" hoarsely whispered one of Tull's companions. "He packs two black-butted guns—low down—they're hard to see—black agin them black chaps."
"A gun-man!" whispered another. "Fellers, careful now about movin' your hands."
The stranger's slow approach might have been a mere leisurely manner of gait or the cramped short steps of a rider unused to walking; yet, as well, it could have been the guarded advance of one who took no chances with men.
"Hello, stranger!" called Tull. No welcome was in this greeting, only a gruff curiosity.
The rider responded with a curt nod. The wide brim of a black sombrero cast a dark shade over his face. For a moment he closely regarded Tull and his comrades, andthen, halting in his slow walk, he seemed to relax.
"Evenin', ma'am," he said to Jane, and removed his sombrero with quaint grace.
Jane, greeting him, looked up into a face that she trusted instinctively and which riveted her attention. It had all the characteristics of the range rider's—the leanness, the red burn of the sun, and the set changelessness that came from years of silence and solitude. But it was not these which held her; rather the intensity of his gaze, a strained weariness, a piercing wistfulness of keen, gray sight, as if the man was forever looking for that which he never found. Jane's subtle woman's intuition, even in that brief instant, felt a sadness, a hungering, a secret.
"Jane Withersteen, ma'am?" he inquired.
"Yes," she replied.
"The water here is yours?"
"May I water my horse?"
"Certainly. There's the trough."
"But mebbe if you knew who I was—" He hesitated, with his glance on the listening men. "Mebbe you wouldn't let me water him—though I ain't askin' none for myself."
"Stranger, it doesn't matter who you are. Water your horse. And if you are thirsty and hungry come into my house."
"Thanks, ma'am. I can't accept for myself—but for my tired horse—"
Trampling of hoofs interrupted the rider. More restless movements on the part of Tull's men broke up the little circle, exposing the prisoner Venters.
"Mebbe I've kind of hindered somethin'—for a few moments, perhaps?" inquired the rider.
"Yes," replied Jane Withersteen, with a throb in her voice.
She felt the drawing power of his eyes; and then she saw him look at the bound Venters, and at the men who held him, and their leader.
"In this here country all the rustlers an' thieves an' cutthroatsan' gun-throwers an' all-round no-good men jest happen to be Gentiles. Ma'am, which of the no-good class does that young feller belong to?"
"He belongs to none of them. He's an honest boy."
"You know that, ma'am?"
"Then what has he done to get tied up that way?"
His clear and distinct question, meant for Tull as well as for Jane Withersteen, stilled the restlessness and brought a momentary silence.
"Ask him," replied Jane, her voice rising high.
The rider stepped away from her, moving out with the same slow, measured stride in which he had approached; and the fact that his action placed her wholly to one side, and him no nearer to Tull and his men, had a penetrating significance.
"Young feller, speak up," he said to Venters.
"Here, stranger, this's none of your mix," began Tull. "Don't try any interference. You've been asked to drink and eat. That's more than you'd have got in any other village on the Utah border. Water your horse and be on your way."
"Easy—easy—I ain't interferin' yet," replied the rider. The tone of his voice had undergone a change. A different man had spoken. Where, in addressing Jane, he had been mild and gentle, now, with his first speech to Tull, he was dry, cool, biting. "I've jest stumbled onto a queer deal. Seven Mormons all packin' guns, an' a Gentile tied with a rope, an' a woman who swears by his honesty! Queer, ain't that?"
"Queer or not, it's none of your business," retorted Tull.
"Where I was raised a woman's word was law. I ain't quite outgrowed that yet."
Tull fumed between amaze and anger.
"Meddler, we have a law here something different from woman's whim—Mormon law! ... Take care you don't transgress it."
"To hell with your Mormon law!"
The deliberate speech marked the rider's further change, this time from kindly interest to an awakening menace. It produced a transformation in Tull and his companions. The leader gasped and staggered backward at a blasphemous affront to an institution he held most sacred. The man Jerry, holding the horses, dropped the bridles and froze in his tracks. Like posts the other men stood, watchful-eyes, arms hanging rigid, all waiting.
"Speak up now, young man. What have you done to be roped that way?"
"It's a damned outrage!" burst out Venters. "I've done no wrong. I've offended this Mormon Elder by being a friend to that woman."
"Ma'am, is it true—what he says?" asked the rider of Jane; but his quiveringly alert eyes never left the little knot of quiet men.
"True? Yes, perfectly true," she answered.
"Well, young man, it seems to me that bein' a friend to such a woman would be what you wouldn't want to help an' couldn't help ... . What's to be done to you for it?"
"They intend to whip me. You know what that means—in Utah!"
"I reckon," replied the rider, slowly.
With his gray glance cold on the Mormons, with the restive bit-champing of the horses, with Jane failing to repress her mounting agitation, with Venters standing pale and still, the tension of the moment tightened. Tull broke the spell with a laugh, a laugh without mirth, a laugh that was only a sound betraying fear.
"Come on, men!" he called.
Jane Withersteen turned again to the rider.
"Stranger, can you do nothing to save Venters?"
"Ma'am, you ask me to save him—from your own people?"
"Ask you? I beg of you!"
"But you don't dream who you're askin'."
"Oh sir, I pray you—save him!"
"These are Mormons, an' I ..."
"At—at any cost—save him. For I—I care for him!"
Tull snarled. "You love-sick fool! Tell your secrets. There'll be a way to teach you what you've never learned ... . Come men, out of here!"
"Mormon, the young man stays," said the rider.
Like a shot his voice halted Tull.
"Who'll keep him? He's my prisoner!" cried Tull, hotly. "Stranger, again I tell you—don't mix here. You've meddled enough. Go your way now or—"
"Listen! ... He stays."
Absolute certainty, beyond any shadow of doubt, breathed in the rider's low voice.
"Who are you? We are seven here."
The rider dropped his sombrero and made a rapid movement, singular in that it left him somewhat crouched, arms bent and stiff, with the big black gun-sheaths swung round to the fore.
It was Venters's wondering, thrilling cry that bridged the fateful connection between the rider's singular position and the dreaded name.
Tull put out a groping hand. The life of his eyes dulled to the gloom with which men of his fear saw the approach of death. But death, while it hovered over him, did not descend, for the rider waited for the twitching fingers, the downward flash of hand that did not come. Tull, gathering himself together, turned to the horses, attended by his pale comrades.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
For sheer emotional force; for the capacity to get and keep his readers, absolutely, in his grip; for the power to be-there is no other word for it-thrilling, few practitioners of narrative prose can equal Grey. Sometimes reading him is like being caught in a waterfall or a flood; you feel at the mercy of a natural force that cannot be emanating entirely from the page.Endurance was a quality that Zane Grey greatly admired, and one would imagine that the uninterrupted longevity of his best-loved book would please him greatly.
1. 1. How does blindness, both literal and metaphorical, function in the novel?
2. 2. What is the role of the setting and landscape?
3. 3. What is the significance of the many references to the “unseen hand”?
4. 4. How is the West represented in the novel?
5. 5. Literary critic Jane Tompkins has argued that “metamorphosis is what the novel strives for and enacts at every level. You can see it not only in the relation between character and landscape, but also in the constant boundary-crossing that takes place within and between characters.” Discuss.
6. 6. Whose worldview wins and why?
Posted January 8, 2009
To "Do Your Reserach First" I say that YOU should do your research first into Mormon history before commenting on a novel that even Mormon historians and artists hail as a great work of American literature. I am a Mormon, a BYU graduate and a Mormon historians myself. Every point you made about 19th century Utah Mormon culture, church governments and history in your review below is incorrect. Obviously you are either an LDS convert or you've done little if any reserach into your own history. The so-called "Avenging Angels" (Danites) of Pioneer Utah WERE a reality. Bill Hickman and Porter Rockwell were among the most famous of them--and among the most famous (and violent) Gun fighters of the old West. You also seem to overlook that the portrayal of the Mormons in "Riders of the Purple Sage" is mostly positive. The heroin IS a Mormon and REMAINS a Mormon. Since the novel is set in 1870's Utah where 99% of the population was Mormon, it makes complete sense that both the "Good guys" and the "bad guys" in the novel should BOTH be Mormons. When I attended Brigham Young University in the 1980s and took a class in Mormon Literature, "Riders of the Purple Sage" was required reading. <BR/>Zane Grey spent a great deal of his life living in "Mormon Country" (the Rocky Mountain states where Mormons then made up the majority of the population.) He knew what he was writing about.<BR/><BR/>Now for everyone else reading this: If you want to know the origin of the Western novel read "Riders of the Pruple Sage." It is THE book that created the genre. (And other Mormons should be proud that the FIRST American Western is a Mormon story. Mormons were--after all--the first white Americans to settle in the western states.)
9 out of 12 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
The rugged West was once a great hunger for the United States. The Western was gobbled up by young and old and the spirit of adventure was very much alive. As time has progressed and technology has sped up all processes to hyper speed - the West and its adventure have become dusty and old.
As I get older, I yearn for the 'old days' and crave to know what it was like to live in the time of the pioneers. Reading Riders of the Purple Sage allowed me to take a glimpse into a rough and tumble past and explore a region and time I will never get to experience.
Its hard to imagine a time when the law of the land was the one with the biggest gun and the best shooting. Or a time when women had few, if any options to them and were essentially at the mercy of the men around them.
As fascinating as the characters in the book - what I got from Riders of the Sage was the raw majesty of the land surrounding them. The Sage, the cliffs, the towns became characters for me within the book. Even if I were to travel to the far flung areas that were once the border of the Western frontier; it would not be the same. Time and technology will have invariably changed it as it has all of the world.
Zane Grey brought to life the stark nature of the West and its people. I think it is time for us to explore a little bit of what we once were as a country - even if it is through a little great fiction. Zane Grey had a great way of capturing the West and giving us a glimpse into how it was won.
While many who read the book might rail at the portrayal of Mormonism - I didn't really see it as a study of the religion. Merely one viewpoint of Mormonism at the time. I found meaning in the 10,000 foot view as it were - and saw it as a great 'study' of the West.
7 out of 7 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 1, 2008
This was the first of three Zane Grey books that I read in the last month. Having visited the south west recently for the first time, these books really came alive for me. I plan to read every Zane Grey book that I can get my hands on and reccommend his books highly.
6 out of 7 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 22, 2011
The type on this version is too small. When I bumped the font size up one notch it was then too big.
I don't recommend this version. Buy the $0.99 version instead.
4 out of 7 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted November 16, 2009
My father, who is 104, loves Zane Grey and loved this book. With the large print it made it easy for him to read and enjoy. He loves to read these books over and over and I am sure this one will be read many times. The paperback version was a lot easier for him to handle as well.
4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted November 19, 2007
Not since A Tale of Two Cities have I read an author with such command of the English language. Perhaps what sets Grey apart from most other authors is his description of action. One of the chase scenes is absolutely breathtaking. And when I closed the book, I said aloud, 'Wow, that was perfect.'
4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted February 4, 2004
I read this book when I was in college as part of a course on Specialty Writing. Zane Gray and Louis L'Amour were both held up as the writers who defined the genre of the Western. Not only is this a great novel, it IS a historically accurate one! Notwithstanding people who want to ignore the often extremely bloody history of the Mormon church, this book simply tells it like it is! Zane writes this books against the backdrop of a religion that had Avenging Angels to enforce the will of Brigham Young. That's even in the Mormon written histories! These weren't just a few 'excommunicated' renegades. No! These were sanctioned bullies who killed and beat and burned their way into history. Let's not forget that the United States government sent troops to deal with the polygamous tyrants who ran Utah. That was the Utah War. We should not rewrite history to make certain folks feel better. That's not right. If we can talk about the Spanish Inquisition for the Catholics or the murder of innocent men, women, children and religious by King Henry the 8th or the cruelties supported by the Southern Baptists during the Jim Crow days down South, then I'm afraid that a well written, novel on a bunch of bully boys is in order too. This is a well done novel full of suspense and action and TRUTH with only the names changed to protect the very guilty.
4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted October 21, 2011
Westerns are not my thing, but the author uses beautiiful language. Ending is a bit sudden, but made me interested in the sequel, "the Rainbow Bridge."
3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 2, 2012
Posted September 8, 2011
Posted April 22, 2011
This classic is an easy read. You won't be able to put it down. From the first encounter you know exactly who the bad guys and the good guys are.
Formated well. Backbround shading works. Good editing job. Good Book.
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 2, 2014
Loved the descriptions of nature and of humanity.
In true American style story telling, the ending was a happy one.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 17, 2015
Posted February 21, 2015
Posted February 21, 2015
Posted February 3, 2015
Posted October 10, 2014
Posted October 8, 2014
Comments: After reading your reveiws I was very unimpressed with the number of oc requests I got. I will use the ones you gave me though. <p>
I was lost. Amberpaw and Featherpaw had it easy. They both had gym which is right next to our dorm. In this school there are only two classes. Gym and academics. I have academics. This includes english, math, science, and history. The classes for apprentices (paws) are on Thunder level. New warriors are anywhere else. As I was searching through this maze, I happened to come across a couple kissing. I wanted to look away but then again, my dream is to have someone who loves me that much so I might stant to take a few notes. Not literaly. The girl was tall and slender with beautiful blonde hair but she dyed most of it blue. She wore a hoodie and blue jeand and had really rockin black knee high boots. She was gorgeous. The boy was tall and slender to bur look at those muscles. I mean he looked really strong! He had black hair that would fall in his face. I was pretty good looking to. When they broke apart, the girl said "bye Gopher." The boy called Gopher smiled sheepishly and said "see ya Weather". I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing. Suddenly I slammed into something. It was Weather. She backed up. "Omg" she said. "I am such a klutz. I am, like, so sorry." I calmly pick up my books. Given that she is not carrying books of her own makes me assume she is on her way to gym. "Im the one who is sorry" I started. "I wasn't paying attention. By the way, I'm kinda lost. Do you think you could help me find Truststar's academic class?" Weather looks at me. "Of course" she says. "My name is Weatherspirit. What's yours?" I smile. Weatherspirit. Thats a cool name. "Sagepaw" I answer. She gives me directions to class and I soon arrive. When I enter, I find class is very small. Only three other apprentices! Their names are Applepaw (medium build girl, long red hair in a braid to the side. Wears a lot of black. Comes from ShadowGroup), Granitepaw (small boy with pale blonde hair and is slightly chubby. From RiverGroup.) and lastly Cloverpaw (Tallish boy with a stocky build. Black hair that falls in his face.) I stop in my tracks as I see Cloverpaw. He. Is. Gorgeous. I know he is from WindGroup but I cannot fight these feelings for him. I luv him. <p>
Comments: now the plot is building. Cant wait for next chapter! Next chapter next res!
0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted October 11, 2014
Posted June 28, 2014