It is Wednesday, I am crouched in the tall grasses, trying to see ahead without being seen. There is no path. My feet are seeping, sinking. Every movement makes a ripping sound.
Telling: Streams & Logs
Telling: Streams & Logs
It is Wednesday, I am crouched in the tall grasses, trying to see ahead without being seen. There is no path. My feet are seeping, sinking. Every movement makes a ripping sound.