I’m thinking that this guy named Slab may be the Potter, but I’m not sure yet. I’m just trying to gather all the writings that I have about the hillock characters and see what other character clues unfold. Oh, dear!…
Slab’s legs were tired after a long day in the tunnels looking for a very special kind of clay for a very important commission by the Hillock Queen. He had been commissioned to create a tile for her outdoor kitchen that could withstand even the hottest fires of dragon’s breath. And on top of that, it needed to have qualities that would resist smoke damage and discoloration. Where would he EVER find clay that would be so impenetrable and so resilient? His four legs dragged him toward ground level and the light he saw shining through the tunnel opening. Even the light was almost gone now. Evening was approaching and twilight songs began to echo through the tunnel walls. The crickets were especially loud tonight.
As he neared the round opening just below the Owl’s cedar tree, he felt a droplet of water land on his scorched lips. Aaaaahhhh he sounded as he swallowed the refreshing evening droplet of dew. As his last leg pushed him out of his hole onto the cool ground, he sighed out the last bits of dust in his lungs and breathed in moist mist of and emergence of the first stars of the night.
From dawn to dusk he had been on his hunt for the treasured clay, and with no success to show for his diggings and dark explorations. So NOW what do I do? Do I dare risk new tunnels in the unknown hillock or do I start all over again through the same tunnels tomorrow? Whatever shall I do? He lay his dry aching body on the warmth of his bedstone, leaning he head on the squishy moss pillow, hoping for some dream to solve what he couldn’t on his own four legs and a whole days work.
Many a night’s dream had guided him to resolution of a days problems as he would awaken the morning. Tonight was one of those nights he heavily counted on to bring such resolution….his lids closed the last bits of light from his consciousness as he eagerly drifted off to sleep.
….across the CobbleStoneWay on the eastern slope of The Hillock, some clicking sounds were competing with the rhythm of the crickets’ chorus. Clickeree! Clickeree! Clicke…….out crept two shiny black beetles.