06-10-2009, 12:15 PM
The dagger was old. Somewhat tarnished by the years of just lying outside, with no owner. As a pup, Willow had found it and brought it back to her family's home. Back then, they were happier. Sure, her father had left, but his absence hadn't taken a toll on her mother, so she still cared. Through training, Willow had finally learned how to use it. Next would be a cross-bow. That sounded fun; effective.
Willow dug the silver blade into the soft dirt. The light snap and rustle of the many pine needles sounded as the blade slid out, now covered in dampened dirt. Cleaning it with the fur on her calf, she watched her reflection in it. It was warped, so her face was compacted a little on the sides, and her forehead stretched out.
Why was it so difficult; difficult for her father to just accept his children and be a part of their life. Why was it hard for Willow's mother to live with the loss of her husband. But then again love was difficult like that. Willow couldn't blame her. Ever through all of it, she wanted love too.
Willow dug the silver blade into the soft dirt.
Willow dug the silver blade into the soft dirt. The light snap and rustle of the many pine needles sounded as the blade slid out, now covered in dampened dirt. Cleaning it with the fur on her calf, she watched her reflection in it. It was warped, so her face was compacted a little on the sides, and her forehead stretched out.
Why was it so difficult; difficult for her father to just accept his children and be a part of their life. Why was it hard for Willow's mother to live with the loss of her husband. But then again love was difficult like that. Willow couldn't blame her. Ever through all of it, she wanted love too.
Willow dug the silver blade into the soft dirt.