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Small Tiger In The Mist

The fog rolls in, cloaking the world in silver, muted tones of grey. It is the light just before dawn, the sun has just woken up but has not yet risen from his bed to grace the land with the full force of his light. A gentle breeze kisses the mist. Tall grass bends under her caress. He reaches and waves with her help, playing "Catch Me" with the fog. The fog eddies and flows between the long arms of the grass, teasing him, "here I am, no, here I am!" The breeze pushes the mist along, at the same time, she helps the grass reach for the fog. The tall grass undulates, a silvery ocean under a grey fog. Wispy tendrils of fog brush the grass, her soft fingers touching him, while he waves back at her, trying to hold on. The bending and waving of the grass while he plays with the fog and the breeze reveals two orbs.

The sun slowly peeks his head above the horizon. Some color has returned to the land, but night holds tightly, gripping the world still in silver and shadow. The orbs shine sandy-green with large black circles in their centers. The face from which the orbs peer is almost visible behind the waving grass, her stripes in many shades of grey blend with her surroundings. The orbs move, she looks at the grass and sighs. He waves back. She looks at the mist and the breeze and sighs. They kiss her nose. She looks at the horizon, where the sun still struggles to rise from his bed. He winks a sunbeam at her. She yields to the morning. She yawns, a single spot of color in the monochromatic world, pink against grey. She shows her small, sharp, white teeth, her tongue pokes out. She stretches, first her forepaws, finally visible with her movement. They reach through the grass, her claws gently kneading the soil. Next, she raises her tail and stretches her back and hindlegs. Her tail stands above the grass and curls, as if questioning her surroundings. Her stretch ends, she relaxes.

She turns her head and looks around. She rises, giving up her night's haven to the other creatures who will shortly begin rising. She turns towards the quickly fading night and softly pads away through the mist and the grass. Small Tiger In The Mist disappears as quickly and gently as she appeared.

The Inn Between © 2004