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six feet down, two stairs up
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all welcome
It was a typical early morning, the sun shone clearly on a cloud-free sky and the birds of the season filled the air with chirps and calls as they went about their daily business. A brisk wind and a light heart led Alacrity to the base of the phosphagos hills, where she was delighted to find tall grasses that were reminiscent of the savannas of her homeland. Granted, there were elk and deer in place of wildebeest and antelope; bears and mountain lions instead of hyenas and leopards. Across the sea, it was perilous for a lone dog to wander without the protection of her family. This american shoreline was distinctly less threatening, but Alacrity was yet to feel safe traveling trails on her own. She sensed (quite rightly) that there were plenty of perils here, lurking under a placid sheep's pelt. Natives might handle such things deftly, but she was a stranger in a strange land - and limited to four paws too.
Today, though, there would be no unpleasant surprises as she jogged along an unfamiliar trail simply to see where she would wind up. The bright, sunny morning was more reminiscent of summer than autumn; Alacrity forwent fretting about the upcoming season and simply enjoyed feeling her muscles ripple beneath her hide. An eagle flew across the horizon and for a while she raced along its path, until the shadow of the mountain blocked it from from view. By now, however, she had arrived at a lovely overlook and with the sunsoaked scenery spread below her, Alacrity almost forgot to be lonely.
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