Saturday, November 10, 2007

12219 WORDS

King was down on one knee, his hand palm upwards on the cold ground. He was staring straight ahead and his eyes were cold. His long white hair blowing like the leaves of a weeping willow tree. Stick wondered what King was thinking about as he stared out into the melting tundra. He was so relieved to be back, the thought of being separated from King was quite frightening.