rileyleight
A cylinder of cold metal in the dirt,
Freezing, ice grabbing at our ankles
I held life tightly in my hands
Beaming towards me,
the darkness closed in
I could see him coming down the slope as I planted myself in the tree, thighs clinging to the rough branch. He was following my footsteps in the mud, closer, closer... sniffing in the air like a dog.