Once upon a time, up a mighty river, across rolling plains of grass, and over majestically snowcapped mountains, a little girl lived in the Bright Land. She lived in a large but comfortable home surrounded by tall hedges of impenetrable briar and bramble; the only way out through a tight aperture guarded by an iron wrought gate discolored and corroded with age. Though as a young goddess she was constantly attended by many wonderful people who cherished her there was something missing, forever dancing just out of her mind’s reach.
Over majestically snowcapped mountains, across rolling plains of grass, and down a mighty river a man lived in the Dull Land. He lived in a home dug from the earth itself, covered with a finely woven frame of small, flexible limbs and saplings planted with sod. This simple structure dwelt in a little glade surrounded by wood through which deer and other such small woodland creatures quietly wandered. A single footpath led to and from this glade and other than the feet of the man and his woodland companions had seen no travel. Although drunk on the peace his solitude brought him there was something missing, forever dancing just out of his mind’s reach.
Little though they realized but their discontent quietly called out to one another, silently pulling at their hearts, a magnetism of blood that would never be quieted while apart. Though they existed in secret from each other, the discomfort bred through their discontent grew to consume their separate countries with a malignant disquiet. Innocent of their involvement though they were neither the little girl nor the man were unaffected when this disquiet became physically manifest. A dark cloud of insecure loneliness blocked out the sun of the Bright Land and cast darkness across a place for which the absence of light was but a legend while bright rays of fiery anger burned away the gloom of the Dull Land and brought light once again to its darkest corners.
Much uncertainty came into these two countries with the passing of these events and the uncertainty rose to create a tension among the people who inhabited the Bright and Dull Lands.
It was the power of this tension that gave life to the Spirit Render. It swirled out of the tension from the people of the Bright and Dull Lands and joined with the fiery rays and the dark cloud. The innate need of the universe to sustain balance in all things being known this gentle beginning to such an intrinsically evil creature should not have been unexpected. It fed solely on the raw negative energy of the universe and it did this until the natural balance was disrupted; causing what remained of the universe’s positive energy to fail and the space in which the Spirit Render resided to collapse into itself like a miniature Black Hole. If not stopped at this time the insatiable entity would move on and perpetuate its cycle of destruction elsewhere. As a creature fueled by anger and driven by loneliness it would not stop on its own until the entire universe was obliterated.
As the peace of his little glade was shattered the quiet Push within his mind told the man it had been of his own doing. A combination of reason and faith the man always listened to the Push, if there was a god the man imagined this was as close as it came to speaking with mankind. It told the man that regardless of the circumstances in the world around him it was he and only he who had made the decision to settle the glade. Poked and prodded along by fate’s sometime harsh finger as he may have been, it had still been he who chose to remain alone in the Dull Land, just another unsung product of free will.
It had not always been so. Fate had offered up many opportunities for pure happiness but the man had squandered them all, never able to appreciate what he had until it had slipped through his fingers, fine grains of sand lost to the passage of time. It was in part these intimate glimpses into his core character, brought so clearly into perspective through his own failings in these situations, that had led him to his latest realization.
More of an epiphany really it had come on slowly, creeping upon him like a panther in the night, a black shadow silently stalking his subconscious with stars twinkling in its eyes. Eventually growing tired of the hunt it had finally pounced and it was then the man knew what he had to do.
Packing only what few belongings he deemed necessary for a long journey the man settled the hobo’s staff to which the bundle was attached across one shoulder and turned to transmit one final farewell to his home, a plethora of fine memories flooding his imagination as he did so.
It was at that moment a deer stepped from the border of trees to shyly stand next to the emerald green mound in the glades center. The man smiled at the rightness of such a send off. Raising a calloused hand, at once a greeting and a dismissal, he called out, “So long my beautiful friend. I’ll love you always and forever and fervently hope we meet again!” And lowering his hand he blinked from his left eye a saline drop as solitary as his existence had been, turned and began the long journey down the footpath to civilization.
However, the little girl did not know how to incorporate the dark cloud into the brightness of her existence. Its shadow contaminated every facet of her life until even a goddess must begin to wilt. And the more she wilted the more those who kept and cared for her tried everything in their knowledge to nurture and nourish her spirit but alas, to no avail. They could not understand it, could not comprehend for their experience had not given them the capacity for this brand of understanding, and to be honest there are but few mortals who have the empathy to understand a goddess.
So they lovingly tried, so they continued to fail and so the little girl grew very ill. She grew ill until she was sick unto death and knowing not what else they may do her caretakers placed her into deep stasis until such a time as a cure for her affliction had been discovered. Inexperienced and uninformed as they were they never paused to consider the coincidence of the girl’s illness and the Spirit Render’s appearance in their world and so the connection between the creature and her decline was left unmade. In this way the little girl slept unawares while the evil of the Spirit Render selfishly consumed the world around her.
On the other hand the man was wise with intuition and if his time alone had taught him anything it was to trust his instincts when they cried out to him. They were crying now and their cry was one of guilt. He knew it was only to remind him, remind him of the choices of his past no doubt but which ones were unclear. Who was to know what particular choice had left him guilty, there were at least a couple that may claim the honor. At the time he had thought it mattered not which intersection plagued him only that through his guilt was he guided to the realization that in some way the Spirit Render had come from him. From somewhere deep within that he was blissfully unaware of until the guilt.
It had always amused the man such feelings could seemingly come spontaneously from nowhere, having no real connection to what he was experiencing in the moment, their relation to the moment only revealed through future moments. He smiled inwardly as he considered all of the times this misconception was proven wrong until it had finally forced him to admit he had been deceiving himself. Thankful it had made him that his path had humbled him in this regard. He dreaded to imagine what might occur if he had remained unaware.
The man had absolutely no idea how he might expect to be able to reign in a demonic presence as awfully all consuming as the Spirit Render. Such a force was capable of destroying the universe if left unchecked, slowly and methodically upsetting the balance of things until the whole system collapsed. At least his feet were on the path to redemption instead of lollygagging somewhere along the wayside, all the distraction just the curriculum of life meant to teach him the truth of his own existence.
He believed this to be one of the ways in which a person may fail themselves and, by doing so, fail those around them. It was hard for them to believe they do not have any real power over any existence other than their own but the only power one may have over another is the power that is given to one by another and this can be taken away, therefore is only the illusion of power and should be treated as such. Just another reason he preferred to be alone. When you expose yourself to the realities of others your own reality can become infected, this may at times be pleasant but is oftimes a cruel and torturous experience. Better to be alone, at least this was what he had thought before the Spirit Render, before the guilt.
He glanced to the northeast and tried not to think anymore on the Spirit Render. His feet were on the path and for now the path led him to Port City. He hated the thought of going to Port City, it meant without an exhaustive detour he would have to travel strait through Cougar Country. Images in his minds eye of the great cats made him grip the haft of his knife tightly though it were not the worries of traveling through this country that made his heart ache with sudden cold pains. Rarely did he dwell on the subject so his mind shied away from this topic as well and having nothing else with which to be occupied latched again on Port City.
Oh, Port City, sleazy river slum and largest pirate town off the northern arm of the Western Ocean, how he truly wished he could avoid making that stop. Unfortunately he stood the best chance of finding passage upriver from there and the man felt time was of the essence as well as maintaining an easterly course.
He could not say with any certainty what prompted him to believe the former but it was definitely the Push urging him to the latter. Listening to the Push when it came to these matters had become second nature to him over the course of twenty years, so there was never a question in his mind as to which direction he was to travel. No, the question was more one of distance for he had not a whisper as to how far he was to go.
Oh well, the man had an ability to withstand even the harshest conditions and after a lifetime of putting himself between a rock and a hard place had developed an iron constitution and the unshakable will to do whatever was required of him, even if what was required was a one man declaration of war against one of his very own unconscious fears grown into a hellish, energy devouring demon of tremendous power and capacity for destruction.
He knew a man must claim his karma or his karma will claim him but without knowledge of why the Spirit Render had become manifest he had no way to claim it. The first goal in this quest must be the uncovering of the Spirit Render’s origins and the only way the man knew to do this was to travel into the past, his past went east.
Eventually the foot path disappeared into a larger network of game trails and not long after the man found himself in territory he had not been in for most of fifteen years. It was at once familiar but not, old but new, and he fell back on a sense of direction that had not failed him since he was a wee lad. Smiling at the memory of a much younger him wandering an old dirt road behind his families homestead the man became briefly adrift in a sea of time.
Gazing about in rapture he took in his surroundings, the green of the forest vibrant and full of life, insects abuzz and the discordant harmony of splendidly feathered birds joyfully adding their melodies to the ethereal rhythm imposed by Mother Nature. Wonder of the type only a child can feel for his surroundings filled him up as bright sunlight flashed through the trees, warming the ground with its clean touch so that steam rose from the rich soil and lush ground cover. When his family had finally pulled their old but carefully maintained wagon up beside him their worry confused him and more than a little disappointed he was they had come to whisk him away from the forests beauty.
Having succumbed to a nearly trance-like state during the course of this memory the man barely reacted in time to save his life. Twisting to the left after hearing the loud pop the head of the homemade mace whooshed dangerously close to his head. Gutter spikes and corkscrewed chunks of metal bonded to the softball sized iron bearing would have made short work of the grey matter residing within his cranium and he was glad to have avoided it.
Drawing his knife as he twisted found him armed and squared off against his opponent but the red fire flashing from the other warrior’s eyes told him he faced no mere mortal. It was true, if he had any remaining doubts this resolved them, he and the Spirit Render were definitely connected. There was no other explanation for how quickly the fiend had located him. He had only been traveling the better part of a day. None of that mattered at the moment though. The ghost, was it a ghost, came at him again, and again the business end of the mace came rushing through his personal space.
The man knew he would be unable to keep up a dance of dodge for long and sought an immediate analysis of his opponent. What he discovered was not to his liking. Big as an ox, fast as a snake, and mean as hell; the man stole brief glance at his knife and felt underprepared for what lay ahead.
“Do your worse demon spawn,” he whispered under his breath.
Molten plasma surged from the hellish warrior's eyes as it lunged forward. Spilling out behind it the liquid fire trailed through the air with its passage and fell to the ground. Twin lines of fire ignited across the thick undergrowth and burned everything it touched to ash in an instant. The man sidestepped and plunged his long knife in the warrior’s chest. Leverage from the creature’s passage caused the blade to snap off at the hilt and he lamented the loss of a fine weapon.
The warrior bellowed in pain as it passed and the man briefly wondered what was going to happen now that he was unarmed. Fear at the thought of imminent death did little to shake him, a lifetime of surviving trials and travails had allowed him to make peace with his maker at an early age. No, what bothered him about dying prematurely was the knowledge his present task would remain incomplete and the Spirit Render would have the final laugh. His heart grew heavy but his resolve never faltered as he again turned to face his opponent.
He had had nothing to fear.
The man’s eyes made contact with his adversary’s form as its momentum came to an end and the demon warrior crumpled slowly to its knees. He was relieved and only a little surprised when after tumbling forward to its face the warrior then evaporated into a dense cloud of noxious gas and dissipated into the atmosphere.
The man walked over to where the demon had laid and searched the thick vegetation until he found his broken knife blade. He hunkered down to pick up the blade and examined it closely. It had snapped clean from the handle and he decided it would still find service as some kind of weapon. He wasn’t far from Cougar Country and he knew he would need to be armed to survive crossing the feline controlled terrain. He tenderly wrapped the blade with a strip torn from his tattered cloak and deposited it along with the rest of his sparse belongings in the small bundle of his hobo’s staff.


CHAPTER TWO


The Bright Land was once a glorious place full of joyful laughter, friendly neighbors, and warm sunshine. It was a thriving community of small metropolises, each of which contained a portion of the combined knowledge of the entire region, each in their own a wondrous place of learning.
All the Bright Land’s various fine folks were innately intelligent and industrious; everyone worked to contribute to the betterment of their society and was glad to do so. The Bright Land was full of peace and love and friendship. No one ever got angry, or sad, and no one ever got sick. Until the day their young goddess fell ill.
Rumor had been going around for some time. Little snippets here and there at first, and if there had been anyone to observe conditions from an outsider’s perspective this would have been their first clue something was wrong in the Bright Land.
Rumor is usually a sign of communal discontent and petty jealousy. A person who is wholly content with their lot in life and truly loves who they are would not feel the need to gossip over their life paths or speculate on the choices and actions of others. But the young goddess had already started to wilt and so had the constitutions of her people. So the rumors flew and soon enough they touched on the possibility of the goddess’s ill health.
The grist mill ground on for only so long before the people forgot even to give purpose to their gossip. For as the goddess wilt crept slowly into actual disease so did the minds of her people decline from intellectual superiority to mental degradation. Only by divine arts passed on throughout the generations did those that cared for the goddess keep enough of their morals and values about them long enough to place their young charge into stasis. Soon after even divine arts were not enough and the ruling cast of the Bright Land faded into social decline along with the rest of its inhabitants...

“I only want to be loved!” a young street urchin, swaddled in rags stained with the sweat and filth of going on one hundred days, pleaded with outstretched hands to the tumultuous crowd. “Please, please what’s wrong with you all?”
The crowd roared and cried out fiendishly at the child. In a tattered leather vest, pantaloons, and a red sash around his waist a man used a chipped cutlass to scare the urchin toward the corner of perpendicular walls. “Yeargh, ha ha!"
“No! Leave me alone. Why are you doing this?” the urchin dodged the cutlass and fell to the trampled sod. The small bundle of dirty rags shook with uncontrolled sobs and tears traced clean trails through the unseen grime on its face as it curled up into a ball in the grass matted chocolate pudding muck.
“Why?” the pantaloon wearing man mocked as he gesticulated his cutlass wildly at the mob. “This brazen little squirt comes inta our province crying about love,” he spat the word from his throat hole like an unwanted loogie. “An wants ta know why we be so persecutin’! Any of ya care to enlighten this poor dear before execution?"
“I-don’t-even-know-where-I-am!” the child wailed.
From somewhere in the back of the mob a blind old crone cackled with eccentric gaiety, “Where I am, where I am, where I am!” This mad chatter sent some of those around her into fits of hysterics and the entire mob shifted about unsteadily.
Pantaloon‘s lips cracked to reveal a three toothed grin and he turned back, raising his sword high above the defenseless orphan as he did so. “You’re in Hell!” he hissed and brought the blade down for a killing stroke.
Mid swing a rock struck poor Pantaloon behind the ear and down he went, fast as shot strung line in a fish pond. “Hurry, run!” a squeaky voice called at the stone’s impact.
Tear filled eyeballs peered from between swathing. Bright green and sparkling they saw the still form of Pantaloon crumpled in a heap before them. Bouncing from the fetal position in an instant the raggedy bundle sprang away from the stunned mob. “Over here!” came a cry. Altering course the sprinting dirtball bobbed and weaved around the edge of the reawakening mob and barreled between two houses.
A shadow detached from its fellows and ran alongside the urchin. A stolen glance with emerald irises gave a blurred impression of another flea bitten, lice ridden, rag wrapped bag of bones street urchin keeping step. “We’ve gotta hurry!” the other urchin called as the mob’s nasty curses and dire threats began piling up behind them. The twins put on an extra burst of speed, rounded a corner and dropped behind some long forgotten debris. Emerald Irises looked through similar folds of dirty clothe, into eyes a kind and gentle brown. After a few moments of angry threats growing in volume the mob stampeded past their camouflaging pile of garbage.
Emerald Irises tackled Gentle Brown with a bear hug beyond proportion. “Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
“Wow, that was close!” gentle brown exhaled happily and pushed the ecstatic Emerald Irises away. “Slow down wouldja? We’re not safe yet. Follow me.” Dragging the other urchin to wobbly feet, Gentle Brown took off down the street in the opposite direction from the mob.
The two young fugitives made a hasty departure from Hell, leaving the disgruntled township behind like a bad habit. From the top of a hill Emerald Irises gave the horrible place a last look and was surprised to see it was entirely engulfed in flames.
Though muffled by layers of clothe, Gentle Brown’s word came clearly, “Now the place really is Hell.”
Emerald Irises looked at him carefully. “You did that, you set the place on fire?”
Gazing yonder as the inferno slowly built to raging, Gentle Brown’s voice hardly quavered, “I dropped a Hot Rock in a pile if hay on our way by.”
“Wow,” Emerald Irises whispered respectfully. “I didn’t even notice. Way to go!”
Gentle Brown’s feet shuffled briefly at the compliment and he said “We’d better get going.”
“Yep, we’d better,” Emerald Irises agreed.
The two urchins sped off the hilltop, into the sparse forest vegetation and were quickly concealed beneath a canopy of fir boughs that dampened the quality of light but not the buoyancy of their free spirits. Oh to be free, such a precious commodity! Even at such a tender age Emerald Irises fully understood the concept, what it meant, and what it should mean to everyone else as well.
Freedom- the ability to act freely; a state in which somebody is able to act and live as he or she chooses, without being subject to any undue restraints or restrictions. In Emerald Irises young mind this meant do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t hurt those around you. Common sense was all that was needed to conclude if someone was hurting you you’re not feeling very free, so don’t hurt others and if Emerald Irises was full of anything it was Common sense. This, commonest of the Seven Senses, was why it was so surprising the mob of people had actually had the upper hand in the situation- for a moment.
Before their Goddess had fallen ill Emerald Irises remembered learning about the Seven Senses- Sight, Smell, Hearing, Taste, Touch, Intuition, and Common. Common was favored for its wonderful simplicity. All it took to use this sense was observation and awareness of your surroundings, simple. Combined with deduction Common is a very powerful tool indeed and normally Common would have been more than enough to steer Emerald Irises well away from a place as bad smelling as Hell. Normally a fierce beast roaring in the hollow caverns above the beltline wouldn’t be calling the shots, although it had been more and more often lately.
Hunger being just another fact of life these days, Emerald Irises stepped up the pace a little, eager to be somewhere safe enough to fall into sleeps welcome forgetfulness. Feeling a similar determination motivate his soul Gentle Brown kept time for a moment before moving faster still.

*******

Blonde, thin as a whip, and golden tanned under the millions of particulates hitching a ride on his body, a young boy crouched warily over a small runoff stream. Washing off the accumulated filth of God knows how many days Emerald Irises could tell he was wary from little things. The knife embedded in the dirt within easy reach, slight side to side twitch of the head, nervous shifting of weight from one leg to the other, all of this told Emerald Irises this boy was ready for fight or flight.
A loudly forced yawn and big stretch startled the boy, who grabbed the knife and spun quick like lightning to shoot those stretched arms right out of the sky.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” Emerald Irises choked, slipped, rolled down the small decline.
Kerploosh!
Gentle Brown took defensive positioning but to no avail. A spray of water cascaded ashore. The water settled and gentle browns settled on the water in astonishment. “You’re a girl!” His eyebrows climbed his forehead.
“And you’re a boy,” the pretty little girl retorted with a crossing of her arms.
The two drenched children stared each other down like a couple pitbull pups with a length of stout rope locked between their jowls. Laughter erupted simultaneously, collided, and came back to knock the two of them over. Emerald Irises sputtered in the shallow water and came upright gasping and choking and laughing all at the same time.
Sides clenched in a solo bear hug Gentle Brown rolled on the ground and just managed between stitches, “St-stop i-it! I can’t bre-eath!”
A mirrored predicament shivered and quivered in the stream. “Me-e-ei-ther!"
Finally managing to reel in their hilarity the two looked at each other appraisingly. There was something to be said about finding a friend in the madness of today’s world, or to be rescued by one.
“What’s your name?” Gentle Brown asked quietly.
“Jessica,” Emerald Irises confided even quieter. “What’s yours?"
“Alan,” Gentle Brown’s voice was proud and solemn. “Alan Aimstryder."
“Songbringer’s my title,” Jessica revealed. “I have no idea what it means.” In the Bright Land the second name was suppose to be a title signifying a person’s true purpose in life as divined by the divine goddess at their birth. She used to descry the life paths personally for every baby boy and girl. At least this was the way of things before she had gotten sick.
“I don’t even like singing that much.”
Alan squinted at her. “I like singing,” he said as he studied her freckled cheeks. “But darned if I know what I’m s’pose to be striding towards.” Then he rolled down the decline to splash in the steam next to Jessica which caused the two’s laughter to ignite all over again.
After they had had their fun, the pair washed up and hung their clean rags to dry. Working together fluidly, like they had known each other their whole lives and could anticipate each other’s actions, they laughed and joked as old friends would.
Once that chore was complete Alan plopped his weary body in the soft streamside soil. “I’m sooo hungry,” Jessica told him as she plopped just as wearily next to him.
“Do you have any weapons?”
Her pale cheeks grew red and she eyed the boy nervously. “No,” she whispered.
Pulling the knife from his belt Alan fingered the blade thoughtfully and then handed hilt first towards the embarrassed girl. “Here,” he told her awkwardly. “You can take this.”
“What will you use?”
“Oh, it’s okay,” he reassured. “I’ve got my sling.”
“Sling?” Jessica was a little confused.
“Yeah, I used it to rescue you yesterday.” He may have well told her ‘duh’.
“Oh,” was all Jessica could think to say as she accepted the big knife. Where was her Common sense there?
“Did you think I threw it?” Alan asked incredulously and giggled.
“Nooo!” Jessica insisted.
Alan’s giggles turned to chuckles as he stood up and removed what Jessica had mistaken for a belt. Three feet long the homemade weapon was fashioned from a bit of leather tied on two sides by braided leather boot laces and was almost too large for the skinny lad.
“Nice,” Jessica complimented as he showed off the simple weapon.
“So you ready then?” he asked her.
“For what?"
“To go-o hunting.” He had just told her ‘duh’ again. “I’m hungry too. Let’s go!” Alan reached his hand down.
Without hesitation Jessica grabbed the proffered appendage and allowed her scrawny new companion to haul her to her feet.
“Let’s follow the stream and see if we find anything,” Alan suggested.
“Which way?” Jessica asked as she studied first the upstream direction and then the down.
Alan did the same and without hesitation went with his intuition. This half wild child had lived on his own long enough his instincts had become honed to a sharpness that would have made him a very rich and popular man. In another world perhaps but not this one; no, in this one he was just a poor and hungry boy and his hunger told him they should follow the stream’s journey across the richly carpeted forest floor.
“Downstream,” he said.
Together the two were intrepid explorers. They left no stone unturned in their quest to find food, literally. Eating what they could find when they could find it, even though what they could find was usually earthworms and such, they kept watch for game sign. In places they spotted small tracks, just not any of the small animals who made them. It seemed word was out somehow and all the forest knew these perspicacious youngsters were on the prowl.
Intuition is a strong sense. If trusted wholeheartedly it can grow in reliability to become as second nature. Alan’s was thus and after some time, as was inevitable, the dashing pair searched their way right into a major animal highway.
“All right Alan!” Jessica’s hand connecting with his shoulder blade was somewhat muffled by his thin shirt.
“Thanks.” Alan smiled and knelt down to examine the game trail closer. All the regular characters were present; deer, rabbit, chipmunk, squirrel… Alan abruptly shifted his inspection from the ground to the trees. Jessica instantly followed suit.
“What is it?” For some reason she felt decidedly uneasy.
“Mountain lion,” he said while scrutinizing every limb of every tree in the immediate area.
Strawberry blonde hair reflected sunlight ricocheted on the knife blade as it gleamed from Jessica’s waist to her fist in less than a second. She too began surveying the newly ominous arboreal arms reaching out over her head.
After several long minutes of holding their breath and searching the upper reaches Alan relaxed and again bowed his head over the animal tracks. Jessica gave the trees one final, systematic looking over and then wandered to stand next to him.
“What’cha think?”
“We’re in luck,” Alan said and stood up. “The rabbits are plentiful and here recently."
“Yay!” Jessica giggled while jumping up and down and clapping.
“Quiet!” Alan admonished. He held both his hands in a placating gesture. “You’ll scare all the animals away!”
Jessica clamped her hands over her mouth and controlled her spastic movement. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I forgot.”
Smiling at his friend he told her, “It’s okay.” Alan waved her in his direction, “Follow me.”
Leading the way he took them up the rabbit trail until it had back tracked them within range of the warren. Alan showed them to a good place to hide and wait for the long eared critters to make their appearance. Fortunately for their hungry tummies they had not long to wait. A plump, juicy, all too curious bunny hip hoppity hopped out of the warren. Whiskers twitching as its little bunny nose wiggled about, testing the air for threats, it crept carefully along. Feeling secure in its environment the cautious mammal managed to gain a little momentum only to crash head first into Alan’s slung rock.
Eyes closed as tight as her fists were clenched, Jessica barely managed to contain her squeal of delight when she heard the connecting thwack! of the rock. She made a mad dash for the downed varmint. Grabbing it up by the ears she dived back into the brush. The grin on her face nearly split her head in half when she held the rabbit up for Alan’s approval.
“That’s great!” Alan’s head was in fear of splitting as well. “Let’s wait around and see if we can get a couple more.”
“Okay!” Jessica readily agreed.
As before the hungry, hungry hunters had mere moments to wait and then two tuft tailed jacks hip hop, hip hop hop hippity hopped their fluffy tails down the rabbit trail and… thwack!, thwack!... This time Jessica did squeal, then she jumped out to grab up the rabbits.
It was then the mountain lion dropped out of the trees between her and Alan.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.07.2011

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