Their Paws are like Tiny Hands
Chicken ran away into the forest.
In the forest, there was an otter.
A sweet, moving short story.
17 pages • digital PDF
I sleep high in my tree in the warm late afternoon sun. I hear you in the water with your sisters. There is a warm feeling inside me like my egg.
We chase berries in the clear cool water. I am laughing with my sisters. In the gentle earth beyond the ferns our mother is resting.
I feel the strong force of the tree breathing beneath my feet. The sun warms me like a rough tongue and I close my eyes. "