The Wizard of the Cliffs

Out from among the rocks as though they had opened to give him egress, strode the once tall form of the Wizard, now bent with years, and the strange life he led. A sort of robe made of the skins of wild beasts covered his gaunt form and fell nigh to his feet. His face was wrinkled and old, but his eyes were as bright and piercing as they had been in his youth. Age and the long life of a recluse had not dimmed them in the least. In one hand he held a long staff, as though to give emphasis to the question he asked. The moonlight falling upon him gave him a weird look, and it was little wonder that those who saw him felt that there was something unearthly about him, and which sent a feeling of awe to their hearts.