The wanderer returns.

The noise was like that of an old steam press, clanking and wheezing as the figure crested the hill.

Is that the wanderer returned?

The lion shielded his eyes against the sun to see it, the metal longer no shiny and bright but brown and rusty from years of walking out in all weathers.

No matter, it would polish out.

The lion smiled toothily as he recognised the long gone traveller.

His old friend had returned to Oz.


Inspired by Sue Vincent’s photo challenge;


4 thoughts on “The wanderer returns.

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