Mysterious Places
Oliver grabbed a long piece of wood that had long ago fallen from a tree due to some kind of storm or something of that nature and held it up to judge it’s height. It would make a perfect walking stick. He smiled to himself and plopped onto a large boulder. He might have been missed at court, sure, but he couldn’t stand being near all those royals with their masks. The men ready to use their subjects to win wars over pride despite their lives being lost in the process. The women pretending to be damsels as they scheme or put on brave faces when yet they know not what to do. If he didn’t know any better he’d thought the masquerade he’d missed was still going on.
He took out his hunting knife and began peeling back the layers of bark. Much like he’d learned to do with people. Peeling back layers of hard shells that had built up over time to protect the soft shell within.
A twig snapped causing Oliver to rise and point his knife towards the person who’d appeared before him.














