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Avon's Drabbles  by Avon

Through darkness and mire I drive him; through forest and briar he drives me.  He is my prisoner - or I am his….  I can not remember.  Can not remember warmth, sufficient food, ease.  Can not remember when I did not hold him, drive him, drag him.  Always in my ears are his moans and snufflings.  Always in my nose is his smell – reeking of dark things and dark places.  Always in my eyes are his eyes: they watch me and hunger for my throat.

In the dark hours I watch what the ring has made him… and I fear.

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