04-07-2020, 10:29 AM
The little Welsh sheepdog trailed behind the group. She frequently stopped whenever others stopped and mainly took her place in the back to make sure nobody got left behind. The small dog seemed sturdy enough to endure the long journey. Her fur was caked in the mud of the swamp but she didn't complain. Margery hadn't spoken much during the journey, but was panting rather harshly. Her tongue flopped out of her mouth as she surveyed the land before them. She listened to each of their comments and sighed, closing her eyes.
It was so nice to be with her family again. Though it brought up memories, painful memories that Margery treated with love and care so that they would not haunt her, she was glad and proud of their collective decision to see the brother they hardly ever knew.
Margery glanced at each of them with a wide-eyed loving hazel gaze. Five hundred years pass so fast. She spent all that time on earth as a wandering spirit, attracted to those who were dejected like a moth to the flame. She saw before her a blistering scar of trauma suffered by her family and felt certain now that her calling was to them now. She only wished that she was able to do so sooner.
The dog picked up her pace ever so slightly to posit herself on the frontlines into the unknown. Her ears, normally pulled back, pricked forward to perceive any signs of life. Apprehension was certainly not an emotion she was experiencing. She had faith, of course. And if it turned out to be a farce, she would continue to the ends of the earth to find Beck. Margery could only hope her outward optimism and idealism would soothe their doubtful souls.
It was so nice to be with her family again. Though it brought up memories, painful memories that Margery treated with love and care so that they would not haunt her, she was glad and proud of their collective decision to see the brother they hardly ever knew.
Margery glanced at each of them with a wide-eyed loving hazel gaze. Five hundred years pass so fast. She spent all that time on earth as a wandering spirit, attracted to those who were dejected like a moth to the flame. She saw before her a blistering scar of trauma suffered by her family and felt certain now that her calling was to them now. She only wished that she was able to do so sooner.
The dog picked up her pace ever so slightly to posit herself on the frontlines into the unknown. Her ears, normally pulled back, pricked forward to perceive any signs of life. Apprehension was certainly not an emotion she was experiencing. She had faith, of course. And if it turned out to be a farce, she would continue to the ends of the earth to find Beck. Margery could only hope her outward optimism and idealism would soothe their doubtful souls.