I clip my way over the face of the hedgerow. It’s good for the plants, keeping them trimmed allows them to grow healthy new leaves. My job is upkeep and maintenance for this old maze, from entrance to end, keeping it green and healthy and squared off nicely. It’s a lifetime project. My hedges look nice, don’t they?
On the trail between the hedges I stumble across another string, leading off into the maze. Gods, it must be the fourth time this century.
I shake my horns and heft my battle axe. Damned heroes, who keeps letting them in here?
Inspired by this weeks Friday Fictioneers prompt: