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“Where are you going, fool? The only green you’ll find is envy!” the other goats taunted.
Joaquin ignored them, his resolve hardening with each step. Finally, he reached the wooden bridge, a rickety contraption swaying over a dizzying chasm. Fear clawed at him. He’d never been so high, and the bridge seemed ready to crumble at the slightest touch. Yet, the memory of the emerald dream spurred him on.
Slowly, Joaquin inched across the bridge. Every creak sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, picturing the green valley, the taste of sweet grass. Just as doubt threatened to overwhelm him, he felt … (to be continued)