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Feilds of gold



...Gold. Everywhere she looked, her vision was laced with the vivid yellow, only offset by the delicate shades of shadows cast through their wavering sways in the wind. The canvas of blue gave seperation to the ocean of wheat, showing her the direction onward.

To where exactly, she didn't know. With laboured breaths, and a weak step, she took a few breif moments to collect her thoughts.

Wandering had been all she had ever known. As an urchin who had spent her younger years growing up in one of the major city districts, the monotone shades of grey and black where bleak by comparison to the spectacle that she was now a part of.

Exhausted from her travels, she searched the horizon for a place to rest. To her suprise, it was as if by some stroke of luck that a small, unwavered tree sat just above the wheat on a small mound of dirt.

Swimming through the gentle swaying storks, she emerged at the base of the mound, it's spongy orange moss engulfing her boots as she stepped out into the clearing. Cautious at first, she took a few steps forward, before the comforting bounce of the moss made her strides unlabored as she reached the base of the old oak tree.

With her back to its bark, she set herself down, accepting the trees support and the mosses soft, gentle embrace.

She had left town so, so long ago. She couldn't remember, nor could she care to remember.

All she knew was that she was hungry, thirsty, tired...

Through glazed eyes the young girl smiled as her vision once again fell to the feild of Gold, the sky of blue and the soft, orange glow of the moss. The sound and the gentle rush of wind, the creaking of the oak wood, her own shallow breath fading.

...it was so beautiful...but she was so tired...



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