He met his death after being attacked by his own dogs, which had gone mad from near-starvation, food being scarce during the siege. His children abandoned the home after the war, and no one lived there there for many decades afterward, though it might not be fair to say the house was uninhabited. Over the years, many people claimed to see the doctor pacing along the veranda on moonless nights, accompanied by a pack of ghostly dogs. Others spoke of encounters with him in the woods near the family home, and of being chased by the hounds…

-Tipton Peyregne

In her later years, my mother nursed the dying, feeding and bathing them and generally offering comfort. Though she did this for monetary compensation, I do not believe her motives were entirely crass, and the death of a patient often left her deeply moved. When her own time came, I found myself in the role that she had played for so many others, and spent long hours at her bedside. I would read to her, and when she was able, she would tell me stories of those she had watched pass on before her. I believe she felt her time with the dying had given her a special insight into the journey ahead, and telling their stories eased her own fears of that undiscovered country death…

-Tipton Peyregne

“The year before I began my schooling, the River Derbane school burned to the ground in a tragic accident, killing one student and leaving several others with terrible scars. My older sister, whose apparent gift of “second sight” I have mentioned before, refused to attend school that day, and later told me she’d had a premonition of the flames. The boy who died, Hosea Bartich, was only a year older than me, but I don’t believe that I ever met him in life. However, my sister claimed that I came very near to meeting him afterward…”

-Tipton Peyregne