The enveloping cold shrouds the fields; The sheep, camouflaged, sleep. You can hear the crispness of the air Almost crackling with loe energy. Everytime you breathe you see your mark is left,

Presented with your requests I crumble, Disintergrating into my foetal position. Protection from you is futile. You force and force yourself upon me And I flinch, I bite, I oppugn.

My black dog barks Skin shredding sonic rings; He does not quietly sing. He does not softly sing. My black dog bites. Teeth-mark scars around my wrists; He does not gently kiss.

erm...?

A Ting but not a Clang it RINGS

Sheila meets a man on her return from her quest to find food, who imparts some news and makes an offer.

A silver-haired desert fox scampered back to its lair as the naked runner passed by - The Sequel to Aurora