BookRags

the trouble with being me is that I need to be infused with elements and nutrients from the dirt so I can truly call myself a nature's child. The blood running through my veins is hardly human; a mix of river water and sunlight. My lungs sing at trees when I breathe I step barefoot across acres of leaves; shoes are bothersome to me in the forest. They say to never light fire here, because flame spreads through the trees quickly and easily. But I build fires in the woods, because I can't stand the darkness.