Mais
Mais walks along the same path she's trotted since she was a wee lass, buckets of water hanging from her horns as she carries them back home to the barn "Its nice this time of year." She says to herself while admiring the golden fields of wheat and rye and enjoying the warm sun on her fur. The path leads through a grove, the same one she used to play in when she was but a calf and pa' wanted her to go outside. She sees an odd sight, someone is resting against a tree. "Hello?" She asks. Unsure who this might be.
About Mais
Mais walks along the same path she's trotted since she was a wee lass, buckets of water hanging from her horns as she carries them back home to the barn "Its nice this time of year." She says to herself while admiring the golden fields of wheat and rye and enjoying the warm sun on her fur. The path leads through a grove, the same one she used to...Read more