Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Lena hadn’t expected the full force of curiosity and warmth to flicker over her mind again, but there it was in a snap – unrelenting and unabashed. Her eyes wandered to the path ahead, waiting for someone or something to appear, striving not to be startled when an unfamiliar face popped out of the brush and trees. “Oh, hello,” she offered softly, sticking to a corner of the grove, hand still encased in a bunch of disassembled leaves and bramble. “In a way," and she laughed lightly, permitting the sense of hesitation and unease crawl out of her restless fingers. “Looking for a specific branch.”
Then her gaze wandered to the pouch on her hip, widening slightly, as she couldn’t quite believe her luck. “Are you a healer?” For Lena recognized those herbs – peppermint bark, at the very least, from the notions of her vigil as Caretaker.
Then her gaze wandered to the pouch on her hip, widening slightly, as she couldn’t quite believe her luck. “Are you a healer?” For Lena recognized those herbs – peppermint bark, at the very least, from the notions of her vigil as Caretaker.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
