The Foundling

The forest was silent except for the wind whispering past and the purple-hued doves cooing in the boughs above. Knowing by the sun's low position in the sky that lastmeal time was approaching, Merid huffed and pawed at the ground. The large gryphon's golden fur was so long near his feet that it nearly hid … Continue reading The Foundling


Winds are wailing, clouds are sailing On a black and roaring sea Where pain and crying, death and dying Are the only certianty Life is fading, shadows shading Every flame now fades away But day will spring, and with it bring The silver blade of dawn's first ray