Old Crow slept for a long time.

Through spring, through summer and into autumn.

His dreams seemed fevered and unrelenting.

When he finally stirred awake, he turned toward Ghost and simply asked “Shall we carry on?”

Ghost would never get used to Old Crow’s ability to shed the past like an ill-fitting skin.

An orange maple leaf tumbled from the tree where they were perched.

Labels: Fresh Gravel For Your Craw, ghost, Inktober, Inktober Day 16, Old Crow, Pentel