It calls her name. It always has. The quiet, the solitude, but most of all, the connection to her heart. The echo of the wolves penetrating the valley walls. The lazy hawk floating high overhead in the early morning light. The rustle of the leaves dancing to a summer breeze and the mournful wail of the north wind pushing snow through naked branches. Tiny dots of green and colour carpeting the meadow floor in spring. Where is this place where people are none? Where gravel roads turn into deer trails. It is the one place her soul finds solace.
| Ann Edall-Robson Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience." | Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Prompt - January 3, 2019 - Write a story about a character who looks back. |
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