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
They’re coming. The only thing in his mind. The only thing he seemed sure of anymore.