PROLOGUE - 1349 A.D.
A man stood sentry in the woods; his dark gaze unwavering as he peered through the trees into a clearing. He leaned against a massive trunk with his right leg resting on a boulder, a length of rope clutched in his grip. The forest tree branches swayed in the sky above him as the fresh breeze stirred the hair around his face. Aside from the few strands of hair lifted by the gentle wind, he was absolutely still. He appeared calm from a distance, but up close one would notice his knuckles were white from the pressure of his hold on the rope, his face was unshaven and his eyes were bloodshot and strained. His tall, muscular form made a formidable silhouette as he lurked in the shadows of the trees. His stare was locked on a stream that spilled over a small waterfall before it danced around the far edge of the clearing. The beauty of the scene was lost on the man. He would not allow himself to truly see it. He would not allow himself to remember. Desperation and determination warred with each other through his body. He had no other choice left to him. He stood. He waited.
The man stiffened slightly then coiled his muscles, ready to move. The waterfall was changing. It was as if giant hands reached out and parted the water. Through the dark gap, a girl emerged. Her bright golden hair gleamed in the sun as she peered out. She hesitantly stepped forward onto a small rock, and the water fell back into place behind her. She was small of build, around thirteen years old. The glare off her white skin was nearly blinding. Her sleeveless, knee length dress of pearlescent pinks shimmered and reflected the sunlight. Her blue eyes scanned the clearing, looking for potential danger. The man held his post, silent and unseen.
Apparently satisfied with her assessment, the girl carefully picked her way out of the stream onto the grass. She let out a huge sigh as she tipped her face to the sun, soaking in its warmth before wandering through the clearing, gathering wildflowers. Her path led her closer and closer to the man’s hiding spot in the woods. When she was only a few yards away, he stepped out and quietly called to her. She startled, looked at him, and froze. He started talking to her, and she pressed her lips together, shaking her head violently as she backed away. He took another step towards her. She dropped her flowers, turned back to the stream, and ran. The man didn’t hesitate. He started after her, preparing the coils of rope in his hands. After only a few steps, he raised a lasso over his head and threw it at the girl. His aim was true, but he didn’t pull back quickly enough. The circle of rope flew over the girl’s head and fell to the ground as she tried to leap out of its grasp. She was almost clear when it caught on her foot. The man jerked on the rope and it tightened around her right ankle, yanking it behind her. She hopped on her free foot, her skirt and hair swirling as she waved her hands frantically to keep her balance. The girl, her hair, and skirt all froze mid-motion. The man was closing in on her, walking the rope hand over hand, keeping the tension, but trying not to make the girl fall. It took his agitated brain a moment to recognize the curious way the girl had suddenly stopped moving. He was nearly to her when his body no longer responded to his commands. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he helplessly watched the girl morph into stone, trapping the open-mouthed scream on her face. He felt a pinch of regret and overwhelming defeat as the transformation ran along the rope to consume him. Blackness overcame him as he was turned to stone.
The sun continued to shine down on the clearing, the stream bubbled to the side, and the breeze frolicked between the trees, grass, and wildflowers. The scene was just as it was before, only now there was an imposing statue of a man lassoing the ankle of a girl as she ran from him, frozen forever in that first moment of capture.
The man stiffened slightly then coiled his muscles, ready to move. The waterfall was changing. It was as if giant hands reached out and parted the water. Through the dark gap, a girl emerged. Her bright golden hair gleamed in the sun as she peered out. She hesitantly stepped forward onto a small rock, and the water fell back into place behind her. She was small of build, around thirteen years old. The glare off her white skin was nearly blinding. Her sleeveless, knee length dress of pearlescent pinks shimmered and reflected the sunlight. Her blue eyes scanned the clearing, looking for potential danger. The man held his post, silent and unseen.
Apparently satisfied with her assessment, the girl carefully picked her way out of the stream onto the grass. She let out a huge sigh as she tipped her face to the sun, soaking in its warmth before wandering through the clearing, gathering wildflowers. Her path led her closer and closer to the man’s hiding spot in the woods. When she was only a few yards away, he stepped out and quietly called to her. She startled, looked at him, and froze. He started talking to her, and she pressed her lips together, shaking her head violently as she backed away. He took another step towards her. She dropped her flowers, turned back to the stream, and ran. The man didn’t hesitate. He started after her, preparing the coils of rope in his hands. After only a few steps, he raised a lasso over his head and threw it at the girl. His aim was true, but he didn’t pull back quickly enough. The circle of rope flew over the girl’s head and fell to the ground as she tried to leap out of its grasp. She was almost clear when it caught on her foot. The man jerked on the rope and it tightened around her right ankle, yanking it behind her. She hopped on her free foot, her skirt and hair swirling as she waved her hands frantically to keep her balance. The girl, her hair, and skirt all froze mid-motion. The man was closing in on her, walking the rope hand over hand, keeping the tension, but trying not to make the girl fall. It took his agitated brain a moment to recognize the curious way the girl had suddenly stopped moving. He was nearly to her when his body no longer responded to his commands. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he helplessly watched the girl morph into stone, trapping the open-mouthed scream on her face. He felt a pinch of regret and overwhelming defeat as the transformation ran along the rope to consume him. Blackness overcame him as he was turned to stone.
The sun continued to shine down on the clearing, the stream bubbled to the side, and the breeze frolicked between the trees, grass, and wildflowers. The scene was just as it was before, only now there was an imposing statue of a man lassoing the ankle of a girl as she ran from him, frozen forever in that first moment of capture.
CHAPTER 1 -- Field Trip
John stood in the back of his group with his hands in his pockets and head ducked, trying his best to blend in with the wall. His class was on his school’s time-honored, eighth-grade field trip, visiting the Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh. They had been broken into groups, each led by one of the museum’s docents. John had slid his way into a group of girls in his grade who pretended he wasn’t there and left him alone. He preferred it that way. They were entering the special exhibits room as another group was leaving it. His group backed into a line against the wall to let them pass. The group leaving the room included “The Crew” as John had labeled them. It was a group of wannabe jocks tagging after the rich and popular girls. Some of the girls boarded their horses at John’s farm, but he couldn’t name them. They had a habit of looking down their noses at him, even though he was almost a head taller. That was fine with him. The girls never stopped talking and texting, and to this day he hadn’t heard them say anything but nonsensical prattle. The girls waltzed by, not sparing a glance at the “lesser,” i.e. poorer, girls and ignored John. The Crew followed, throwing back their shoulders and puffing out their chests like gorillas. As they passed John, each one took the trouble to bump shoulders with him and grumble a derogatory remark. John had heard them all before.
“John Boy!”
“Farmer Brown!”
“Nice overalls, hick!”
“You smell, Amish boy. Don’t they have showers where you come from?”
“Nice boots, loser!”
He almost wished they would come up with some new material. No matter how much John braced himself against the words, they cut into him, chipping away at his confidence, because they all had a thread of truth to them. He was wearing overalls, big heavy work boots, worked on a farm, and didn’t always have time to clean up after his morning chores before school. On top of that his last name was, sigh, Brown. There wasn’t much he could do about any of it. He had been adopted from the orphanage when he was six years old by a married couple who ran one of the few remaining working farms in the county. The couple didn’t have any sons, but plenty of daughters. It took him months to learn and remember all of their names. His parents were hardworking, honest people, but they were strict and extremely old-fashioned. They weren’t Amish, but they may as well be. The girls were not allowed to do the majority of the work at the farm because it was “man’s work.” That’s where John came in. He was their free laborer. John was grateful they rescued him from the orphanage, but there was little affection between them and even less money. His father insisted on the steel-toed work boots, saying that he needed proper footwear to perform his duties on the farm. They were very nice work boots, but they were his only shoes. When he was younger, he didn’t know the difference, but now that he was fourteen… well, they were the object of many taunts and jeers. He wished he had regular jeans to wear, but his father wore overalls, so, of course, they had him wear overalls. As his father got older, John’s responsibilities grew, and mornings were frantic with work. If John missed the school bus, it was a six-mile walk to get to his school. Consequently, he didn’t dare miss the bus. More often than not, he had to run in from the fields, grab his books, and race to the bus stop, barely having the time to knock the dirt from his boots.
Normally, John didn’t react to The Crew’s bullying. If he did and got caught (and it seemed he always got caught), his father would punish him. When it came to his word against the word of The Crew, school officials always sided with the well-dressed, polished boys. Today, however, John was out of his element in the huge museum, and he grew more uneasy as the day dragged on. Todd was the last of The Crew to pass him. He was the largest of the bunch and was their self-appointed leader. As Todd walked past, John stuck out his steel-toed work boot, tripping the guy. All the girls in line giggled and laughed behind their hands. Todd righted himself and whirled on John, his hands clenched into fists, his broad face turning an ugly shade of red.
The teacher was only a few steps behind them, so Todd angled his back to hide his face as he growled, “Better watch out, John Boy!” Todd caught up with his buddies, and they all turned to look at John, the menacing intention on their faces clear. John had just moved himself to the top of their hit list.
John didn’t know what had come over him. His stomach tumbled uncomfortably. He had only moved his foot a mere six inches! One-on-one, John felt he could handle anyone in The Crew. His never-ending work on the farm had made him strong, and he was tall for his age. The problem was that there never was only one of them; The Crew moved in numbers. John dragged his feet more than normal and was the last of his group to shuffle into the special exhibits room.
The guide had already started her speech, standing next to a huge statue on a platform in the corner. As John joined the back of the group he caught a few words.
“Unknown origin…very old…excellent condition…very lucky to have it here…on tour…found in a hidden storage facility in Germany after World War II.”
John lifted his head to get a look at the statue. A strange tickling sensation started at the top of his skull and traveled down to his shoulders. He shook his shoulders in response, but his gaze was locked on the statue. It was made up of two stone figures. There was a man holding onto a rope that was lassoed around the ankle of a girl. The girl was frozen in motion as if she was trying to turn towards her captor. She had a scream on her lips as she stood on one leg, the other leg pulled behind her by the rope. The man’s face was unlined and youthful, but haggard and strained. He was over six feet tall and wore what looked like patches of leather sewn together with rawhide. It had an old European look to it, but John didn’t know much about those things. The girl, however, was wearing what looked like a modern sleeveless dress that swirled about her knees, and she was barefoot. He heard the guide mention something about how the mixed styles of dress made it hard for experts to pinpoint its origin and sculptor, but he wasn’t really listening. John had an inexplicable rising feeling in his chest that drew him to the statue. He wormed his way closer to the exhibit until he was standing at the velvet rope that blocked off the platform. He vaguely acknowledged that the guide had finished her story and was leading the group to the next artifact on display. John was rooted to the spot, staring at the statue, the tug in his chest growing stronger. He kept tabs on his group as they toured the room while he stayed where he was, drinking in the lifelike detail of the sculpture. When the guide led the group out of the room, John reluctantly pulled himself from the statue and joined the end of the line at the door. This was the last part of the directed tour. The class was to get a short amount of free time to roam the museum on their own before they had to get back on the buses to go home. John shook his head, trying to clear it from the strange attraction he had to the statue. He suspected The Crew would be out for him after the stunt he pulled with Todd, and he had to be on his guard.
The line stopped when he was only a few people from the door and he peered over the tops of the girls’ heads to see what was the cause of the hold-up. It looked like they were waiting for an elevator. The guide and teacher were gone, as were half the girls, apparently filling up an elevator car and leaving the rest to follow as soon as the next car came along. Movement on the other side of the hallway caught his eye. It was Todd and The Crew, impatiently waiting for the crowd of girls to clear so they could get to John. John ducked his head before they saw him. He was acutely aware of the lack of teachers, or any adult for that matter. He turned around, quickly scanning the room for a way out. This was the only door. John silently cursed to himself as sweat broke out on the back of his neck. The Crew had never truly targeted him before, seeming content to throw verbal assaults at him, but he’d heard stories of others not so fortunate. They never got punished for beating anyone up; the school simply didn’t believe them capable of such a thing, and it was the word of many against the word of one. His heart began beating faster every second as he frantically tried to come up with a plan on how to get out of this unharmed. The room was made up of several exhibits in glass cases on floor pedestals and larger items displayed against the walls. There was no place to hide and no other way out; he was trapped.
His gaze was pulled back to the statue. It was on a stage-like platform that was angled in the far corner. The mini-stage was a solid, boxed sort of thing, so there was no crawling under it. There was a gap between it and the corner of the room, but he didn’t see any way to get there. He heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of another car. He was out of time. Before he could think about what he was doing, he ducked under the velvet rope, hiked himself up on the platform, and carefully stepped over the rope part of the statue connecting the girl to the man. As soon as he was clear, he dropped down into the small space between the platform and the wall. He barely made it. He heard the elevator doors close with a chime, and the hall fell silent. John felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He heard The Crew as they barreled into the room, full of pre-teen angst and self-righteous fury.
Todd shouted, “Time’s up, John Boy! It’s time to find out what happens when a worthless piece of farm dirt like you messes with one of us!” The other guys made grunts and other noises of support.
John thought, What are they, apes? He imagined them thumping their chests as they scoured the room. John was thinking of renaming them “The Ape Crew.”
John held his breath as he crouched deeper in his hiding place.
“I know you’re in here!” Todd shouted. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Several of the goons snickered in response. John heard them shuffling about, only feet away from him. John barely breathed for risk of being discovered. Eventually, all the noises retreated and gathered in the center of the room.
Todd’s lackeys took turns commenting.
“He’s not here, Todd.”
“There’s nowhere for him to hide.”
“He must have slipped into that first elevator without us seeing.”
“Where else could he have gone?”
Todd made a growl of frustration, and John pictured him kicking one of the display pedestals and breaking a toe, or two. No such luck. “I’ll get you, John Boy!” threatened Todd. “You can’t hide from me forever! Come on, guys, let’s go look upstairs where his group was heading.”
As the boys left the room, John questioned their logic in threatening a room they deemed empty. He shrugged and added a mental point to the new “Ape Crew” title.
John waited in his spot as he heard the guys leave on the elevator and all became silent. He didn’t move. He figured he should wait out the rest of the assigned free time and then make a beeline for the bus. Luckily, he didn’t ride on the same bus as The Ape Crew. He had forgotten to wear his watch, and he couldn’t see a clock from his position. His legs began to cramp, and his feet started to go numb. Finally, when he couldn’t take anymore, he stood and quietly stretched his aching limbs. Blood surged back into his feet, giving him that unpleasant pins-and-needles feeling.
He silently hauled himself back up onto the platform and carefully stepped over the rope part of the statue. He got one foot free and clear, shifted his weight to that leg, and slowly lifted his other leg over the statue. He was almost over. He started congratulating himself on his quick thinking and his luck that no one caught him on an actual exhibit. He only had a few more days of school to get through until summer. If he could avoid The Ape Crew until then, they probably would forget about him over the break. In the fall they’d all be starting high school, so there would be a lot to distract them. He could always hope.
He had his other foot over, and he started to lower it down to prepare getting off the platform. At least, he thought his other foot was over the statue, but it wasn’t. Later, he would wonder if it was the numbness lingering in his feet or just the sheer size of his work boots that caused the accident. Regardless, his foot caught on the rope part of the statue between the man and the girl, and he tripped.
His face went flying towards the platform and his other foot kicked back up behind him as his body went horizontal mid-fall. Between the jerking of his two feet in those darn steel-toed work boots, the rope part of the statue broke.
John heard the crack of the stone shattering as he tucked his head in his arms right before he hit the platform. He landed hard on his left shoulder and rolled to the ground just as he heard another loud CRACK. A plume of dust exploded outward and stone pieces rained down on him.
As a layer of debris settled over the room John thought, Oh cattails!
“John Boy!”
“Farmer Brown!”
“Nice overalls, hick!”
“You smell, Amish boy. Don’t they have showers where you come from?”
“Nice boots, loser!”
He almost wished they would come up with some new material. No matter how much John braced himself against the words, they cut into him, chipping away at his confidence, because they all had a thread of truth to them. He was wearing overalls, big heavy work boots, worked on a farm, and didn’t always have time to clean up after his morning chores before school. On top of that his last name was, sigh, Brown. There wasn’t much he could do about any of it. He had been adopted from the orphanage when he was six years old by a married couple who ran one of the few remaining working farms in the county. The couple didn’t have any sons, but plenty of daughters. It took him months to learn and remember all of their names. His parents were hardworking, honest people, but they were strict and extremely old-fashioned. They weren’t Amish, but they may as well be. The girls were not allowed to do the majority of the work at the farm because it was “man’s work.” That’s where John came in. He was their free laborer. John was grateful they rescued him from the orphanage, but there was little affection between them and even less money. His father insisted on the steel-toed work boots, saying that he needed proper footwear to perform his duties on the farm. They were very nice work boots, but they were his only shoes. When he was younger, he didn’t know the difference, but now that he was fourteen… well, they were the object of many taunts and jeers. He wished he had regular jeans to wear, but his father wore overalls, so, of course, they had him wear overalls. As his father got older, John’s responsibilities grew, and mornings were frantic with work. If John missed the school bus, it was a six-mile walk to get to his school. Consequently, he didn’t dare miss the bus. More often than not, he had to run in from the fields, grab his books, and race to the bus stop, barely having the time to knock the dirt from his boots.
Normally, John didn’t react to The Crew’s bullying. If he did and got caught (and it seemed he always got caught), his father would punish him. When it came to his word against the word of The Crew, school officials always sided with the well-dressed, polished boys. Today, however, John was out of his element in the huge museum, and he grew more uneasy as the day dragged on. Todd was the last of The Crew to pass him. He was the largest of the bunch and was their self-appointed leader. As Todd walked past, John stuck out his steel-toed work boot, tripping the guy. All the girls in line giggled and laughed behind their hands. Todd righted himself and whirled on John, his hands clenched into fists, his broad face turning an ugly shade of red.
The teacher was only a few steps behind them, so Todd angled his back to hide his face as he growled, “Better watch out, John Boy!” Todd caught up with his buddies, and they all turned to look at John, the menacing intention on their faces clear. John had just moved himself to the top of their hit list.
John didn’t know what had come over him. His stomach tumbled uncomfortably. He had only moved his foot a mere six inches! One-on-one, John felt he could handle anyone in The Crew. His never-ending work on the farm had made him strong, and he was tall for his age. The problem was that there never was only one of them; The Crew moved in numbers. John dragged his feet more than normal and was the last of his group to shuffle into the special exhibits room.
The guide had already started her speech, standing next to a huge statue on a platform in the corner. As John joined the back of the group he caught a few words.
“Unknown origin…very old…excellent condition…very lucky to have it here…on tour…found in a hidden storage facility in Germany after World War II.”
John lifted his head to get a look at the statue. A strange tickling sensation started at the top of his skull and traveled down to his shoulders. He shook his shoulders in response, but his gaze was locked on the statue. It was made up of two stone figures. There was a man holding onto a rope that was lassoed around the ankle of a girl. The girl was frozen in motion as if she was trying to turn towards her captor. She had a scream on her lips as she stood on one leg, the other leg pulled behind her by the rope. The man’s face was unlined and youthful, but haggard and strained. He was over six feet tall and wore what looked like patches of leather sewn together with rawhide. It had an old European look to it, but John didn’t know much about those things. The girl, however, was wearing what looked like a modern sleeveless dress that swirled about her knees, and she was barefoot. He heard the guide mention something about how the mixed styles of dress made it hard for experts to pinpoint its origin and sculptor, but he wasn’t really listening. John had an inexplicable rising feeling in his chest that drew him to the statue. He wormed his way closer to the exhibit until he was standing at the velvet rope that blocked off the platform. He vaguely acknowledged that the guide had finished her story and was leading the group to the next artifact on display. John was rooted to the spot, staring at the statue, the tug in his chest growing stronger. He kept tabs on his group as they toured the room while he stayed where he was, drinking in the lifelike detail of the sculpture. When the guide led the group out of the room, John reluctantly pulled himself from the statue and joined the end of the line at the door. This was the last part of the directed tour. The class was to get a short amount of free time to roam the museum on their own before they had to get back on the buses to go home. John shook his head, trying to clear it from the strange attraction he had to the statue. He suspected The Crew would be out for him after the stunt he pulled with Todd, and he had to be on his guard.
The line stopped when he was only a few people from the door and he peered over the tops of the girls’ heads to see what was the cause of the hold-up. It looked like they were waiting for an elevator. The guide and teacher were gone, as were half the girls, apparently filling up an elevator car and leaving the rest to follow as soon as the next car came along. Movement on the other side of the hallway caught his eye. It was Todd and The Crew, impatiently waiting for the crowd of girls to clear so they could get to John. John ducked his head before they saw him. He was acutely aware of the lack of teachers, or any adult for that matter. He turned around, quickly scanning the room for a way out. This was the only door. John silently cursed to himself as sweat broke out on the back of his neck. The Crew had never truly targeted him before, seeming content to throw verbal assaults at him, but he’d heard stories of others not so fortunate. They never got punished for beating anyone up; the school simply didn’t believe them capable of such a thing, and it was the word of many against the word of one. His heart began beating faster every second as he frantically tried to come up with a plan on how to get out of this unharmed. The room was made up of several exhibits in glass cases on floor pedestals and larger items displayed against the walls. There was no place to hide and no other way out; he was trapped.
His gaze was pulled back to the statue. It was on a stage-like platform that was angled in the far corner. The mini-stage was a solid, boxed sort of thing, so there was no crawling under it. There was a gap between it and the corner of the room, but he didn’t see any way to get there. He heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of another car. He was out of time. Before he could think about what he was doing, he ducked under the velvet rope, hiked himself up on the platform, and carefully stepped over the rope part of the statue connecting the girl to the man. As soon as he was clear, he dropped down into the small space between the platform and the wall. He barely made it. He heard the elevator doors close with a chime, and the hall fell silent. John felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He heard The Crew as they barreled into the room, full of pre-teen angst and self-righteous fury.
Todd shouted, “Time’s up, John Boy! It’s time to find out what happens when a worthless piece of farm dirt like you messes with one of us!” The other guys made grunts and other noises of support.
John thought, What are they, apes? He imagined them thumping their chests as they scoured the room. John was thinking of renaming them “The Ape Crew.”
John held his breath as he crouched deeper in his hiding place.
“I know you’re in here!” Todd shouted. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Several of the goons snickered in response. John heard them shuffling about, only feet away from him. John barely breathed for risk of being discovered. Eventually, all the noises retreated and gathered in the center of the room.
Todd’s lackeys took turns commenting.
“He’s not here, Todd.”
“There’s nowhere for him to hide.”
“He must have slipped into that first elevator without us seeing.”
“Where else could he have gone?”
Todd made a growl of frustration, and John pictured him kicking one of the display pedestals and breaking a toe, or two. No such luck. “I’ll get you, John Boy!” threatened Todd. “You can’t hide from me forever! Come on, guys, let’s go look upstairs where his group was heading.”
As the boys left the room, John questioned their logic in threatening a room they deemed empty. He shrugged and added a mental point to the new “Ape Crew” title.
John waited in his spot as he heard the guys leave on the elevator and all became silent. He didn’t move. He figured he should wait out the rest of the assigned free time and then make a beeline for the bus. Luckily, he didn’t ride on the same bus as The Ape Crew. He had forgotten to wear his watch, and he couldn’t see a clock from his position. His legs began to cramp, and his feet started to go numb. Finally, when he couldn’t take anymore, he stood and quietly stretched his aching limbs. Blood surged back into his feet, giving him that unpleasant pins-and-needles feeling.
He silently hauled himself back up onto the platform and carefully stepped over the rope part of the statue. He got one foot free and clear, shifted his weight to that leg, and slowly lifted his other leg over the statue. He was almost over. He started congratulating himself on his quick thinking and his luck that no one caught him on an actual exhibit. He only had a few more days of school to get through until summer. If he could avoid The Ape Crew until then, they probably would forget about him over the break. In the fall they’d all be starting high school, so there would be a lot to distract them. He could always hope.
He had his other foot over, and he started to lower it down to prepare getting off the platform. At least, he thought his other foot was over the statue, but it wasn’t. Later, he would wonder if it was the numbness lingering in his feet or just the sheer size of his work boots that caused the accident. Regardless, his foot caught on the rope part of the statue between the man and the girl, and he tripped.
His face went flying towards the platform and his other foot kicked back up behind him as his body went horizontal mid-fall. Between the jerking of his two feet in those darn steel-toed work boots, the rope part of the statue broke.
John heard the crack of the stone shattering as he tucked his head in his arms right before he hit the platform. He landed hard on his left shoulder and rolled to the ground just as he heard another loud CRACK. A plume of dust exploded outward and stone pieces rained down on him.
As a layer of debris settled over the room John thought, Oh cattails!
No comments:
Post a Comment