In the week that followed, a quiet transformation took place in the village of Taewe. The children, once wary and fearful of the outsider, now flocked to him.
Light had become their favorite person, a source of endless wonder and fascinating new games. He didn't lecture them from a book; he taught them by doing, turning lessons into joyful activities.
Today's lesson was pottery. Light sat with a dozen eager children by the riverbank, their hands and faces smeared with wet clay. He watched them work, his eyes filled with a patient warmth.
Some, he noted, had a natural feel for the craft, their small hands expertly coaxing bowls and cups from the shapeless mud. Others struggled, their creations lopsided and clumsy.
Through his knowledge from the divine library, he was aware of all their talents; none were extraordinary, ordinary at best. They were the kind of children who would never be accepted into even the lowest of the formal academies.
