If These Old Bones Could Talk...

Fern slowly walks along the ridge, admiring the day and beauty that lays around her. A small form catches her eye and her light blue gaze turns to find Sota making his way toward her. The gray woman’s tail wags happily behind her as he approaches. The small male already has a special place in her heart from the time they spent watching a meteor shower together. When Sota is near, his wide smile is returned with a large, warm one of her own.

His sweeping bow has her laughing happily and her tail picks up speed. His words have her smile growing and she says, “Sota! It is a lovely day! I am happy to see you. I was afraid I wouldn’t have a friend to share this beauty with.” Fern’s eyes sparkle with happiness and she steps forward, offering the smaller male a friendly head bump if he wanted.

Stepping back, she turns her light blue turn toward the open ground, where old, sun-bleached bones stick out like jagged teeth. Sadness pulls at the corners of her eyes as Fern wonders who these ancient bones belonged to and she softly muses, “This place has always intrigued me. I feel like these creatures, whatever they were, deserve more respect than we give them.”


"Fern Lark"