Swindle1984

Another Time The old man moved carefully through the woods, his mocassined feet stepping silently on the dry leaves and debris on the ground. Had anyone else been around, they would have sworn that he was the living incarnation of Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, and Jim Bowie. His skin was deeply tanned and lined with fine wrinkles, resembling well-made leather. His clothes had been hand-made and repaired many times, the earthy colors of the fabric and the stains of many years of use allowing him to blend in perfectly in the forest or in the crowd. Around his waist was a worn leather belt with a long knife strapped to one side and an ancient r