A rush of wind. The aroma of evergreen and fresh grass. A sudden urge to move for the first time in how many lifetimes? And the first movement is always the hardest.
Searing sunlight. Nearly two millenia in darkness burned away in a moment. Granite slabs like palace steps, looking so much more weatherworn then when I last trod them.
One step. Then another. The cave that had been both womb and tomb lay behind me. First step down, then another. Time to leave the last of Morganna’s whim behind.
I had a pendragon to find.
songbird chorus
an exodus from the cave
accomplished
for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto Thursday photo prompt–ahead
Frank J. Tassone 
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