It was dark, not deep dark, just light dark. what few stars shone through the city haze twinkled in vain, futily trying to rival the brilliant full moon, cars drove past the silent park, the drivers barely concious of the statues standing silent vigil around the barren circle in the grass. A young man on a horse pawing the ground, lance raised in triumph. another sitting on a stump holding a short rod in one hand, working signs with the other, all the while reading intently from the book in his lap. a young lady, hood thrown back, staff raised, providing silent ministrations to the final member. A much older man with a pointed goatee accenting the sharp lines of his face. his injured arm holding back his cloak, revealing his good hand fingering a dagger stuck in his belt. The hard edge in his eyes showing his refusal to relax, even while so sorely injured.
the stars twinkled.
in living memory, indeed, much further back if anyone had ever cared enough to notice, grass had never grown in that circle, let alone anything else. If you sat and watched long enough, you might see squirrels or bees move around it in the course of their busy days, not through, around, never through, even the children that so loved climbing the statues shied away from the barren ground.
the stars shone, but with new hope, a shadow passed across the moon.
mtch mtch Community Member 
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