(no subject)
The white woman and the fleethounds, ten of them, are running. It is the greatest joy of that breed, and the woman laughs to run with them. It can't be said that she is truly light of heart, but her joy at being surrounded by an ocean of canines is honest and unfettered.
Silvery hair dances on the wind behind her, bare legs and feet flash through the ground cover in light steps. They have no coherent purpose, the dogs and the woman, they run for the pure joy of running without care for who and what they might meet.
Silvery hair dances on the wind behind her, bare legs and feet flash through the ground cover in light steps. They have no coherent purpose, the dogs and the woman, they run for the pure joy of running without care for who and what they might meet.