The wind whispers through the tree branches as he crouches there in the bushes. He breaths in the rich forest air, listening to the heartbeat of the planet.
The whispers, he thinks, are the world's way of telling us that life will go on.
Birds sing their joyous songs in the treetops above him, and to his right he hears that telltale crunch of dead leaves.
His eyes snap open in time to se a buck stepping into the meadow before him. He raises his arms slowly, so he doesn't scare it.
Sometimes, he thinks, life doesn't go on.
Drew Martyn about 6 years ago
A-aw! Great drabble, the ending took me completely by surprise, good one Jane.