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Richard Alan Dickson
Jason didn't intend to destroy the world when he got out of bed on that cold and fateful morning.
It was supposed to be a bit of harmless fun—a few stolen kisses from the dryads in the woods... something his best friend Puck and the other boys his age said that they'd all done dozens of times before. Something he'd been teased for years about not having done at all.
He should have seen though the foolish fib in an instant. If the Dance of the Dryads occurred only during the midday eclipse at each semi-annual equinox, how could a bunch of fourteen-year-old boys have seen it dozens of times before?
Once or twice, maybe, but dozens?
The thought was planted, though, and it wouldn't go away... not even when it meant risking the world as Jason knew it by disobeying his father.