For Day 13 of the #31daywritingchallenge, October-themed!
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We of the Forest
Pitter patterand the rain is coldand the wind makes it colder,and he’s just a little thing,rolled up in the heather,at the base of old Father Oak,shivering longunder his sheltering leaves.
Such a beautiful thing.
His breath is like fogand his eyelashes frost,and we curve around our treethinking maybe he’s lost.Which foolish mortallet him run astray?We slink down the trunkswirling, singing,to see if he wants to play.
-サラ...