The apocalypse continued
Chapter 1:
Cloud slid his eyes around the ground. It was all snow. His boots plundered farther and farther into the snow and his brows grew weak. He patiently heaved himself forward and fell into the snow. You must run, you must go.
He slowly got up and let out a raspy sigh. His feet wavered back and forth and he could barely see. Let down, he started to run. It was not a fast run. It was an effort-filled run but it just passed walking. He was still far away from his destination. Being a herald did not make money. He hated the spell even more. It was supposed to encourage him. But it was not any more encouraging than the heavy bag of letters tied to his sheath. He dropped.
"What are you doing wi"
"STOP" It was a firm shriek, and it was a prompt motivation. He dashed off into the farmyard and went to continue his dig. He heaved the shovel over his head and let the dirt slide... It did and then slithered out of hearing. This process repeated. He was blind to the farmers. He had no passion, nor wit. They did not know him, five years was no exception. He didn't appreciate their music. He appreciated his own. It was nature's music, he shared it. With the wind, and the tree's and the sun. It was a general music and it was graduate. He threw down his shovel and walked into the meadow. His plowshare was now a sword. Mother Nature stood in the middle of the meadow outside her house, helping a wounded robin. Come over, she said softly. He came. She looked at him for a moment, and then began to start helping the robin again. He waited patiently with his hands firmly planted in his overall pockets. Mother Nature tended to the robin sternly, and then, just as if it had been made, she dismissed him. He took one of his hands out of his pockets and slowly handed her the green-lanced emerald. She waited for it to be placed in hand and as she waited, she began to whistle. All of a sudden, the birds joined in as well. The emerald dropped and she concluded her piece. He looked at her, her eyes were nearly closed, yet she moved as if she knew the whole world round, gracefully. Of course, she only knew the meadow. The birds gazed around her and speedily started to chirp. "Sit child", and so he sat his back leaned against a tree and his bottom placed on a low branch. It was very comfterable. She handed him a wide wooden bowl full of green herbal water. He drank, and then set himself down again. She dismissed him.
Cloud awoke. He was still in the snow, it seemed to have decreased but he still hated it, although, at the moment, he was relatively happy. He trotted on through the snow and completely disregarded the spell. His hair withered back and forth as he assumed his position to be trotting with the wind. He steadily moved on. He let go of each of his troubles with each pace he made. It was quite a long walk. Though on he moved, happily as ever.
Chapter 1:
Cloud slid his eyes around the ground. It was all snow. His boots plundered farther and farther into the snow and his brows grew weak. He patiently heaved himself forward and fell into the snow. You must run, you must go.
He slowly got up and let out a raspy sigh. His feet wavered back and forth and he could barely see. Let down, he started to run. It was not a fast run. It was an effort-filled run but it just passed walking. He was still far away from his destination. Being a herald did not make money. He hated the spell even more. It was supposed to encourage him. But it was not any more encouraging than the heavy bag of letters tied to his sheath. He dropped.
"What are you doing wi"
"STOP" It was a firm shriek, and it was a prompt motivation. He dashed off into the farmyard and went to continue his dig. He heaved the shovel over his head and let the dirt slide... It did and then slithered out of hearing. This process repeated. He was blind to the farmers. He had no passion, nor wit. They did not know him, five years was no exception. He didn't appreciate their music. He appreciated his own. It was nature's music, he shared it. With the wind, and the tree's and the sun. It was a general music and it was graduate. He threw down his shovel and walked into the meadow. His plowshare was now a sword. Mother Nature stood in the middle of the meadow outside her house, helping a wounded robin. Come over, she said softly. He came. She looked at him for a moment, and then began to start helping the robin again. He waited patiently with his hands firmly planted in his overall pockets. Mother Nature tended to the robin sternly, and then, just as if it had been made, she dismissed him. He took one of his hands out of his pockets and slowly handed her the green-lanced emerald. She waited for it to be placed in hand and as she waited, she began to whistle. All of a sudden, the birds joined in as well. The emerald dropped and she concluded her piece. He looked at her, her eyes were nearly closed, yet she moved as if she knew the whole world round, gracefully. Of course, she only knew the meadow. The birds gazed around her and speedily started to chirp. "Sit child", and so he sat his back leaned against a tree and his bottom placed on a low branch. It was very comfterable. She handed him a wide wooden bowl full of green herbal water. He drank, and then set himself down again. She dismissed him.
Cloud awoke. He was still in the snow, it seemed to have decreased but he still hated it, although, at the moment, he was relatively happy. He trotted on through the snow and completely disregarded the spell. His hair withered back and forth as he assumed his position to be trotting with the wind. He steadily moved on. He let go of each of his troubles with each pace he made. It was quite a long walk. Though on he moved, happily as ever.