Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
“Something that could be used as a staff,” and her eyes flickered downward, cast upon the wares of the forest floor again, striving to spy something potentially useful. Moving and roaming, she kneeled along the path, but grew visibly relieved when Ray announced her name and profession. “Lena,” she extended with her hand as well, to confirm the shake. “Caretaker of the Celestine.”
Rising once more, and then barely watching her way before her, her hands went to another layer of bramble, plucking at a piece of wood buried amidst the cluster of thorns, moss, and lichen. “What were you looking for?” Perhaps they’d be able to help one another.
Rising once more, and then barely watching her way before her, her hands went to another layer of bramble, plucking at a piece of wood buried amidst the cluster of thorns, moss, and lichen. “What were you looking for?” Perhaps they’d be able to help one another.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
