A Day In the Life of A Dog_Saved, But Only Just_The Land of Fairytales: The Lonely Unicorn_Selvana
Catalog Guide:
A Day In the Life of A Dog
I follow him out the door. The sunshine warms me, the breeze is full of all the wonderful smells of our little world. I can smell the grasses and the flowers, our neighbors cooking. I hear the wind whispering through trees as I walk beside my best friend. He smells like home.I know the way well, we walk it often. Nothing warms my heart more than to just be with him. I love being outside and I love our walks. Even though we do not speak the same language, I know some of his words, we do understand each other. We carry a very special bond between us. It is strong and deep. Love and loyalty...
Saved, But Only Just
The road from Alarston had been a long one, with only endless miles of farmland to occupy the mind. Luthar was frustrated and uncomfortable sat on Stepper for so long. Each night he would make the camp and prepare Chadwick’s meal for him, rub down the horses and try to sleep in the cold darkness. The only thing keeping his mind on the job was the debt he felt he owed Chadwick for the armour he’d bought him.They’d been on the road nearly a fortnight now, headed for the Port of Elliath, the most southern city in the three kingdoms. Chadwick had said the job was lucrative and Luthar could really ...
The Land of Fairytales: The Lonely Unicorn
Not so long ago, far away from the Land of Fairytales, Loki, the Unicorn, lived in the Land of Nowhere in a field of tall grass and wildflowers with brown, black, and tan horses. Like the horses, Loki had four legs, a mane, and a tail, but Loki just didn't fit in. He had two things the other horses didn’t have, a single horn on his head and wings on his back.One day, Loki felt so lonely. He ran away and left the field of tall grasses and wildflowewww.onedoor.ccrs behind. He galloped through the forests and plains of the Land of Nowhere, looking for a new place to call home, somewhere he just might fit in.Wh...
Selvana
Mother says my brother is sick. The stones, cut slate, are set firm into the earth; they do not budge as I race towards the town of Bayle. To either side of me runs the wall. It is crumbling, but still high. My footfalls are mostly silent, but they are enough to startle a raven into flight. The leaves, though turned for autumn, have yet to fall from the trees. Filtered through them the morning’s light is honey-colored, dripping into puddles on the forest floor. The crisp air sears my windpipe and squeezes my chest tight, my breaths are quick and shallow. But the thing behind me means that I c...