Chapter XI: THE HANDS OF CHANGETheir prodigious, magnificent forms became visible as soon as their large hooves took a single step upon the dock.
Witon knew, without benefit of a looking glass, the blaze of wonder upon his face, shining always at the sight of a Centaur. Half-Human and half horse, these creatures were powerful and intimidating beings, beautiful in their majesty. He took a deep, steadying breath, willing himself to play the role of idealistic coordinator—a moniker he had given himself, one he thought defined his role.
“Welcome, Chiron, Chalene.” As gracefully as he could, Witon bowed while looking up, making the eye contact so important to these stately creatures. Yet, as silver eyes met silver eyes, there came that shiver, that quiver of familiarity he felt whenever he wa
