Every Lamb Needs A Pasture for Writer's Choice

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Where are we Illya?

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

I don't recognize it. But it feels safe... somehow...

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Did we do it? Is the THRUSH installation destroyed?

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Amazingly, yes. When we were running out the tunnel entrance, I had no idea we would end up here.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

It looks like an orchard. I guess we won't miss lunch after all.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

This place is...

What about it, Illya?

It reminds me of home.