On the Moor
Running comes easily. It's something he knows, something that's part of him, ever since he first learned to walk. Ever since he first looked into the Untempered Schism. He runs. He runs, and he runs well.
Except over swampy, boggy areas. He doesn't run quite so well there. He does try, of course.
"Run, Sally!" he calls back. And then loses his footing. And falls, face first, onto the wet ground.
Except over swampy, boggy areas. He doesn't run quite so well there. He does try, of course.
"Run, Sally!" he calls back. And then loses his footing. And falls, face first, onto the wet ground.