Dusty and Arnabuck: A Tale of Magic, Friendship, and Wonder
Dusty and Arnabuck A Tale of Magic, Friendship, and Wonder Part One: The Boy Who Couldn't Sleep Thirty-five years ago, on a spring night when the moon hung full and luminous above the world, there was a boy named Dusty who could not sleep. His name was Dusty because of the color of his hair—a sandy blonde that caught the light like wheat in a summer field. He was nine years old, that perfect age when childhood still held all its magic but the world was beginning to reveal its secrets. He had freckles across his nose, bright blue eyes that missed nothing, and a heart that believed in wonder with absolute certainty. Dusty lived in a small house on the edge of a town that seemed to exist half in the modern world and half in a storybook. His bedroom window overlooked a garden—wild and wonderful, where flowers grew where they pleased and trees twisted into shapes that invited climbing. The garden belonged to his grandmother, who lived just three houses down the street. ...
