Post by Annasiel on Sept 18, 2015 18:34:43 GMT
Whose woods these are I think I know. his house is in the village though;
Cypress stumbled through the trees at the outskirts of the kingdom, breaking out into open farmland. Wincing, she scoured the land for any signs of humanity. A house, a plow, a scarecrow, anything. At least farms meant people were somewhere nearby. People that could help her. People she could warn.
He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow.
She held a hand in a vicelike grip on her right arm, trying to deaden the pain. The cold was as piercing as fire, shooting up and down the blighted limb with malicious vigor.
My little horse must think it queer to stop without a farmhouse near,
The smell of horse manure was rich on the air, though still no stables or houses were in sight. Slow but determined, the lieutenant limped her way down the rural paths, flinching every time the wind rustled the wheat around her.
Between the woods and frozen lake, the darkest evening of the year.
Up ahead, the last vestiges of the dying sun glanced across the surface of a duck pond, the waterfowl asleep under trees near the water. The light was blinding, spawning dancing orbs in the corners of Cypress's vision.
He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there is some mistake,
On the wind, the jangle of reigns sounded for a moment, causing the woman to stand upright in alarm. She strained to hear where the sound could have come from, where there could be aid.
The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.
As soon as it had come, the sound was gone, lost on the light breeze of twilight's hour. Cypress slouched again, dragging herself forward in her long march. A blister split on her foot, sending sticky fluid leaking into her hole-ridden boots.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep,
She needed to warn them. She needed to find them. She didn't come this far just to fall now.
And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.
Fatigued, agonized and defeated, Cypress stumbled forward onto the dusty ground. Her body was on fire, her arm was ice. Among the weeds and ants, the soldier faded into the calm embrace of unconsciousness, lost in colorful shapes and sounds of the inner mind.
Cypress stumbled through the trees at the outskirts of the kingdom, breaking out into open farmland. Wincing, she scoured the land for any signs of humanity. A house, a plow, a scarecrow, anything. At least farms meant people were somewhere nearby. People that could help her. People she could warn.
He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow.
She held a hand in a vicelike grip on her right arm, trying to deaden the pain. The cold was as piercing as fire, shooting up and down the blighted limb with malicious vigor.
My little horse must think it queer to stop without a farmhouse near,
The smell of horse manure was rich on the air, though still no stables or houses were in sight. Slow but determined, the lieutenant limped her way down the rural paths, flinching every time the wind rustled the wheat around her.
Between the woods and frozen lake, the darkest evening of the year.
Up ahead, the last vestiges of the dying sun glanced across the surface of a duck pond, the waterfowl asleep under trees near the water. The light was blinding, spawning dancing orbs in the corners of Cypress's vision.
He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there is some mistake,
On the wind, the jangle of reigns sounded for a moment, causing the woman to stand upright in alarm. She strained to hear where the sound could have come from, where there could be aid.
The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.
As soon as it had come, the sound was gone, lost on the light breeze of twilight's hour. Cypress slouched again, dragging herself forward in her long march. A blister split on her foot, sending sticky fluid leaking into her hole-ridden boots.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep,
She needed to warn them. She needed to find them. She didn't come this far just to fall now.
And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.
Fatigued, agonized and defeated, Cypress stumbled forward onto the dusty ground. Her body was on fire, her arm was ice. Among the weeds and ants, the soldier faded into the calm embrace of unconsciousness, lost in colorful shapes and sounds of the inner mind.