they were beautiful.
not with perfect blue eyes or sandy hair or skin that had married then sun and sharp razor.
their hair was the color of freshly turned soil, their eyes like orbs of a stormy sky on a summer night.
they had adventure growing from their cheeks in crowded gardens of bushy flowers.
adventure clung to the stench each carried like a burden which for some reason tasted like a perfume on the nose.
the wilderness was their home and they were nurtured by the boulders, and raised up by the trees.
they were so worn in the best way.
so wild in the most daring way.
they were so beautiful.
