Literature
Pillar of Prose - Trails
She walked down the dirt path with her head down, watching her gait with half-conscious interest. Her hands were buried in the cloth of her pockets as she ambled pensively down the trail, following the gentle current of wind and the browning autumn leaves that were caught in it. The path was worn and pressed as though by the soles of countless travelers, but emanated a spirit of still air and feral delicacy, like something untouched and ancient. There were two miles of empty trail behind her, and before her laid several more miles of snaking trail that had yet to claim her footsteps. Crisp and dying forests stretched out infinitely around her
