Saturday, November 06, 2004



"Dark eyes fluttered open, blinking against the light of a new day. They closed again momentarily as the lithe body of the wood elf stretched. Her tousled golden hair released its grip on the few leaves it had collected through the night as she moved within her treetop home. Pushing herself up on one hand she ran the other through her messed hair and down across her tattooed face. Across her face were dark markings, those of her tribe, the one which she had belonged to before the forest war.
Rolling to her knees, she pushed herself up to her feet, taking in scenery around her.
She was nested in the tallest tree of the forest and from the branch upon which she had slept, and now stood; she could survey the tops of the other trees, lush and green. The leaves from various other trees waved with the breeze, increasing the feel of loneliness within her world. This world was dead, her people gone, the treetops which had once housed many, now were bare, only stirred by the occasional bird or squirrel, or breeze. The forest seemed to cover acres of land, dipping where the earth dipped, parting where brooks forced their way through. It was a beautiful sight to the untrained eye, but a devastating one to hers."

1839 words so far

Our Blogs