He was a crafty one, this troll. He could blend into the landscape, making you believe he was part of the forest. Some even carried names but all were...treacherous. One had to be very careful to catch this fiend. I heard a small, almost imperceptible cry. All of my senses were instantly on alert as I shifted my gaze in that direction. I saw a poet, hunkered down on the forest floor. I slung my gun over my shoulder and climbed out of my stand. I followed the sound of the poet, surveying each page. We saw a movie and ate ice cream in a parlor and danced at a street festival and rode on roller coasters and rode our bicycles. It was my best birthday, ever. That day was the peak of our joyous new lives. My stomach was full, my legs were tired, and my head was filled with contentment. When night fell and we rested on the couch sharing a coffee table book about race cars (one of my birthday presents), mother asked if there were anything else she might do for her birthday boy before he had to. More

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