DeAnna Walker

The Silent Observer

Brilliant shades of purple and orange set the dawn ablaze, biting back the cloudless starry sky from the inky nighttime blue. Jet black eyes watched the hulking figure from her pine tree perch as it strode into the open meadow, its gait lumbering and rigid. She watched passively as the pale light from the fading full-moon lit his shaggy, cumbersome form, and he knelt in the center of the isolated meadow with an exacerbated lurch. Too big, too unwieldy. They always struggled to maneuver by the end of the night.