|
rows a thin robe around Ruka's body
and steps over to the door. Opening it carefully, Ruka Aida looks at
the stranger standing before her. Ruka Aida never speaks a word. She
lets Ruka's eyes frame the question that the stranger knows she
wishes to ask. Ruka Aida looks at the man expectantly, studying his
features, his body.
He is tall, well over six feet, and somewhat thin. He is
handsome, yet in a rugged sort of way. His face is the face of
one who enjoys the outdoors. His skin is the ruddy color of one
who has spent his life mostly outside. He wears a short-sleeved
cotton shirt. His muscled arms sprout from wide, solid
shoulders. His pants are made of faded blue denim. The knees of
which are worn through in spots. On his feet are a pair of old
leather hiking boots. The boots appeared to be well worn, the
seams at the soles split at a few places. They were stained by
the dust of many a road. In his hands he held a six-pack of beer
and a bottle of wine. Ruka's eyes once more directed themselves to
the stranger's pants. `Yes,' Ruka Aida thought to herself, `They are
well-filled.' Ruka Aida once more
|
