Thread:GulfstreamTheGardener/@comment-44642068-20191217192934/@comment-44642068-20191218232547

Windor flew aginst the cold winds until he reached his home. A large sinkhole in the middle of the desert. Rocks bordering it kept the sand from falling in. Yellow crystals and black rock covered the walls of this giant hole. Tunnels ended where this sinkhole began, their deep caverns lit only by the glowing yellow crystals. Everything was just as he had last seen it but not as it was ment to be. Icicles hung from overhangs of stone. Snow covered the botton of the hole. Freezing winds sung through the carverns and tunnels. Windor tucked his wings in and dove down to the center of the hole.

A hundred feet below the sands, Windor looked at his old home with a semblance of fondness. He remembered back to better days, of a multitude of reptiles lounging in the sun together. Of the fish that used to swim in the cavern lakes. Of the snakes that loved to wrap themselves around his neck. Of gatherings and meetings and huntings and naps. Of better days.