Lush Green Hill
Anger, after stumbling upon torn Gwen, Alfred’s very soul was in flames, hand fumbling through robe tied cord for Trueshot, fathers wolf slaying sling, crafted supple willow twined gut. Sheep being slaughtered, stolen, regardless of him, young eyes witnessing, glaring down upon, barbarian horde. Two hundred yards of rage, foot of lush green hill, their mocking remarks shepherds, flocks, fingers fevered searching leather pouch, smooth weight relieving burden with cold stone. His sister Gwen... Sign in to see full entry.