|
Post by ashendis on May 16, 2006 10:26:34 GMT -5
Years pass in the quiet forest. The sun and moon rise and fall. The creatures are silent, and the leaves sway slowly. A flow of silver comes and goes with the wind.
Then the clouds roll over, blocking the light. Rain pours down in buckets on the ground. All creatures seek shelter, the trees seek to grow. The driplets make a crescent scar sting.
The wind dies down, the rain passes. The forest becomes quiet again. Stags roam the land, and spiders hang from trees. A Stormsaber awaits its master.
The ground becomes steps for a new journey. The moon becomes a guide for the road. The stars become portraits of memories past. The rogue rides north for home.
|
|