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2007-04-21 06:39 pm (UTC)
"Indeed, though they are not specifically ours," Marian says thoughtfully.
She wove him through the unmarked parts of the forest. She had walked these paths since being a small girl. There sounds of the forest, birds chirping, the river, and the wind through the trees, relaxed her shoulders so that not even her damp skirt could cling in her mind.
"Tis right over this next set of hills."
On the other side, there was an opening in the trees, but still far from any housing or buildings. There was a raised and covered feeding trough in old, weathered, browned to black wood which looked perfectly fine regardless of the age it spoke. And for one trained it, it thrummed with its own life.
Scattered all across it were the denizens of it's life. Sharp beaked and soft feathered, with their deep, cackling calls back and forth to each other. The glistened like shadows, not reflecting, but defining the sunlight that stood around them.
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