Sunday Whirl Wordle #583
Hosted by bwarren
The aged fairy looked down at herself. She soothed her torn and yellowing tutu, a spill of tulle loose upon her body. Her raspy breath, greedy for youth, made a soft hiss as it left her thin lips.
She watched another fairy dancing in the moon lit night as she pirouetted on top of the grassy bluff. Her face, her skin, her body bore the flush of youth.
The young fairy would stay safe this night. The old fairy turned away, resisting the dark one yet again.