Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Lena, of course, was not much for being a predator. Nothing was truly her prey – even in her fox shift. Too accustomed, too adorned, too manifested in the beauty, finery, and majesty of the animals she cared for, and with an overt understanding of how the cycle of life worked, she merely appreciated all of them. From the largest of dragons and ursurs, to the tiniest of blink hares; each fitting a role, a niche, in the way of the world. “Thank you,” she grinned again at the compliment, placing the finishing touches and setting the lantern down again to dry.
While she dipped her paintbrush back into the water, watching the colors swirl in bizarre, then darkening formations, she tilted her head back towards the older man. “Ah,” she mentioned, brows furrowing slightly. “Is there some alternative version I’m unaware of?” By the way of the “story” – for it’d been no fabricated tale.
While she dipped her paintbrush back into the water, watching the colors swirl in bizarre, then darkening formations, she tilted her head back towards the older man. “Ah,” she mentioned, brows furrowing slightly. “Is there some alternative version I’m unaware of?” By the way of the “story” – for it’d been no fabricated tale.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
