05-22-2009, 11:51 PM
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.......:] .......The other wolf stopped, and Hemming felt like he had been dropped back into a closed-mouth forest. "No?" he asked only slightly rhetorically, looking up at the trees as if they would give him a hint. "You see, as I walked I thought I heard the trees telling me their stories." He was starting to come back to real life, and the words that had come out of his own mouth were a bit puzzling to him. Hemming knew that the trees couldn't talk, and knew that though they had been here for so many years they hadn't exactly been the best witnesses of history. Inspiration, though, was often found through absorbing the atmosphere of a place, and the wanderer understood how these woods could give rise to a song like that. Perhaps this musician was playing the words of the trees, interpreting their grandeur in a way that was unique to him. .......Dropping the thought to ponder for another day, Hemming smiled softly. "You play beautifully," he said, walking toward a spring and stepping into its shallow waters. He sat down on its squishy bank, feet still submerged, and sprawled himself across the ground. The blue sky was visible from here, and he stared up at it. "Could you play some more?" |