The twigs crackle
under my steps. It is cold and it rains; I tighten the hood of my red
gore-tex jacket. As I hear a noise behind me, I turn over and get to see
a roe deer that is moving away. There are no wolves left. I come into
the house and find her laying in her bed:
- Grandma, what a
big mouth you have!
- Oh dear, how
should I know you had told your mum that you would sleep here!
Kaixo Sara, azkenean zure blogera sartu naiz, eta gustatzen zait. Jarraituko zaitut eta espero zerbait Euskaraz idatziko duzu. muxu eta animo
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