"Do ye ken your way home? But of course not," he continues, "or you wouldn't be out here lookin' lost and your parents wouldn't be searching for you. Look, lad, haul yerself up here behind me and I'll see ye home." He reaches out a thick hand and grabs your wrist, and between him pulling and you jumping and grabbing you somehow end up on the horse behind him.
"Ye need to ride more," McEwen observes, then sets off at a rapid canter. "Yer big enough now, ye should have a horse of yer own."
As McEwen talks, and the unfamiliar action of the cantering horse bounces you gently, you're bursting with questions. Where are you? Or, more exactly, when are you? Obviously you are you, you're in your hometown, and Mr. McEwen sounds like Mr. McEwen - though you're at least 50 pounds heavier than you were before, and McEwen is probably 150 pounds bigger than his old self. What's going on? As the two of you ride on, McEwen makes observations about the weather and the town, which seem familiar yet strange. And you see some familiar landmarks - building you thought of as being old, like a church, that seem quite new. No cars though, no pavement, and people out walking tell you that something strange is going on. You...
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