The small imp ran as fast as its feet could carry it. But that didn't matter. A hunter was on it, it was prey.
Inhale.
A figure in a tree nearby pulled an arrow from his quiver, placing it on the string of his bow. He pulled it back.
Exhale.
He aimed, the horned head of his prey bobbed up andf down, like a cork in a river. He'd hit smaller things.
Inhale.
He released the arrow. The imp turned just in time to see the dark death fly into its skull, sending it backwards.
Exhale.
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The world according to an ADD mind
Instead of updating this like a dairy, I'll comment on different things every day.
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Hat-tori
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