Hunted
Sometimes I see a shimmer of light, a shard of hope still shining
through the pitchblack shroud wrapped tighter and tighter around me.
He stands there, half-turned away from me, proud, aloof. Damn him.
I reach out for him, hold him, but he is not there.
And as he walks away from me in anger the dogs of despair are closing
in for the kill.
End
by Sasjah Miller
t follows me, it claws at my soul, it eats its way into my heart. It
turns everything that is true and befitting to the legacy of a
Steward's son into something ugly and tainted.
