He had always dreamed of one day being like them...the pilots who came among them, with their laughter and songs, and carefree ways. One day, he promised himself, he would cross the river to the forbidden isle, with its strange, domed cities and airships. Sometimes, on clear evenings, it seemed so near--yet for centuries no one from the jungles had crossed the water. Perhaps they simply preferred the peace and quiet of the deep forests...or perhaps they still blamed the islanders for the war that had taken so many lives, long years ago...

yeah, just messing with paint. Nothing much.


Moon brush by Iceytina.