A mob marches to their feet
05-09-2014, 08:42 PM
The wildflowers were so beautiful, light and cheerful in the sunlight. Every living thing must reach its end someday, and some things would have their endings today, or tomorrow, or in a period of time known to wolves. A rusty brujo would wander across a large cliff covered with thickly twined grasses and wildflowers. Lime gaze was wary for any cliff side, as he had heard of a dangerous cliff that a wolf could easily miss and walk straight off. Paws would carefully step, but away from the cliff side. In relief, the man would lie down, content and relaxed in peace without any intrusion. A small sigh escaped from his tattered lips, which was replied to by a noise. He swiveled his ears forth, and listened intently, his body tensing. "Speech" |
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