The woods were already filled with shadows one June evening, just before eight o'clock, though a bright sunset still glimmered faintly among the trunks of the trees. A little girl was driving home her cow, a plodding, dilatory, provoking creature in her behavior, but a valued companion for all that. They were going away from whatever light there was, and striking deep into the woods, but their feet were familiar with the path, and it was no matter whether their eyes could see it or not.


I am a heron. I have a long neck and I pick fish out of the water with my beak. If you don't repost this comment on 10 other pages, I will fly into your kitchen tonight and make a mess of your pots and pans.