“What, er ... who are you?” Steven sputtered.“I’m Upik the woodcutter,” the little man answered. “And don’t tell me you thought I was a ...ragon. My breath is sweet as clover.”“I was just surprised,” Steven answered. “And I thought ... well, I didn’t know what to think. I haven’t seen anyone in three days and now the road I have traveled ends at this lake and I shall have to go back and find where I turned off the wrong way.”“Ah, well that would be easy,” said Upik the woodcutter. “You must have. I talked until I would drift off. Then we would dream together.Each night the dream would be the same as before. The beach. The sandcastles. Each night I would show Simone a different set of faces in my collection. Some, like Gertie and Mac, she liked and she would try to touch them with her fingers. Pieces of the sand from them would cling to her delicate fingers and she would scurry back to her own castle and brush the tiny shiny grains into her own mixture of faces, mixing in the sands of my. More

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