The Cave

The Raven rolled on his back, playing with a twig as a kitten. The dove circled and returned, what do doves say anyway? His black pearls are peering at the foliage, though and memory hunkered down behind its beak, while clouds this time steal the sun.

Fur bounces through, one of the four hundred has returned, with blurred vision staring at the Raven. Complicated signals communicate the Rabbit’s excitement, the new visitor has come.

Old world versus the new, the decline of dragons sees the light of lions. A stalemate stare holds the promise.

Oh yes, they have finally met.

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How lovely! I’ll challenge with the following title: The Changeling’s Shoes.