Dear Anna,(2)

As she trenched through the mud, heading towards the village her thoughts wandered to a time where she didn’t have much to worry about. Back then, the most trivial thing seemed to be a challenge, a mission.

There was once a bushwillow not too far from she stood now.  She would climb it daily, attempting to reach the top. She was tired of the faires telling her what was coming from afar. She wanted to take of herself, she didn’t want help.