NOW JAMES IS WRITING ABOUT OWLS TOO.
The deafening screams echoed through the cold night as I sit there in my tent and slowly fall asleep listening to the screams of the owls in the distant trees.
I wake up in the morning to the cold winter breeze. I step out of my tent, as my feet hit the cold frosty ground, I step back with a sharp chill in my toes.
I get dressed and go looking for the mystical owl that I heard so late in the night. I can hear the screeching of the owlets high above as I walk through the frosty grass.
JAMES – YEAR 8