The Last Featherfoot.

[Benny_Fool 80]

Felix Featherfoot the II did not know where he was, but he knew it was just right. A little hill sat before him, nestled in between the split of a small creek. Trees dotted the small expanse, and shaded him from the low-hanging sun and biting winds. He looked over the land once more, thinking of small a bridge to span the crick, and a warm cozy fire that would leak ink-grey smoke through a brick chimney and out into the starry expanse of a night sky. He sat underneath one of the few trees, and pondered as he drifted into a nap.

 

He had wandered since the destruction of the farthing, and found a new home. Far away from the everyday hassles of the village life, and his now destroyed ancestral home. He would find peace away from the memories of his dead father, and absent blood-kin. However,  He would not completely seal himself from the past. He would remain a font of wisdom for the young who sought him out, and a warm hearth for old friends.  As he drifted into a comfortable sleep, he repeated a single thought to himself.

 

He was the last of the Featherfoots.

 

(( With Dalek off doing whatever, I figured I'd do what was necessary and retire the last of the Featherfoots. Perhaps the we will return ( We were a prestigious house of course), but for the mean time Felix will grow old in a very warm and cozy hobbit hole off somewhere, content and free of the bothersome quarrels of new people.))

 

 

 

 

 

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.