The stories never end they just curl their tails around themselves and sleep for awhile. Above them the leaves of the world tree flutter in the wind. The night wind that knows all the answers because it has no need of questions. Somewhere there's a moon, somewhere there's a farmer and his wife sleeping in a feather bed. She laughs once in her sleep and this wakes up the farmer; a moment later he falls back to sleep and dreams of walking through a field of apple trees their apples ripe and sweet.
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