Old Writings of Times Past and Stories Lost

“What are you doing boy?” the girl asked in a most inquisitive way.

The boy replied, paying no attention, “I’m counting the rocks, I’ve put into a circle there.” His gray little pebbles lined up in a sad sort of ring.

“But why?” the girl asked in a matter fact sort of way.

“Because that’s all I have left to do since my friend went away.” The boy said with a little sniffle.

“Your friend? Where did he run off to, boy?” Her curiosity was blooming like a spring flower.

“My mum said he went over the hill, and past the woods, to the acres where only hounds may find.” The boy’s voice was crackling with desperation and sadness.

“A dog? Your friend that is?”

“Yeah, but he left now, to leave me to my counting and my rocks.”

“All alone?”

“It’s all I have.”

“Well that just won’t do. Boy, I will be your friend.”

“You will?” His voice was filling with anticipation.

“Yes, I will. We will be the best of friends, traveling on unknown adventures through dangerous places. The two of us, you’ll see. A most magnificent team we will be.”

The two children’s eyes seemed to be filled with stories and pictures of journeys to be fulfilled. Wondrous daydreaming never to be grasped by anyone else; it was a magical world for two. A most magnificent team they would be.