Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Lena swung her head from the man, Morgen, and to the mare, Sweet, committing them to memory. Half an inquiry rested on her tongue on how the unicorn acquired her name, but left the little joke behind. Besides, she had the crude joke for her eyes to widen again, and then snort and rally through.
Taking his hands gingerly, and only so she could properly gain her balance, the youth stood up from her crouch, basket over her arm, and things vaguely collected. She might’ve left some others in the snow, but it was difficult to tell in the way they’d all haphazardly fallen around. “Thank you again,” came along, uncertain of what else to say.
Except she remembered she had treats in her pockets, and dug one out, intentionally for the mare, lifting it up for inspection. “Can I give her one?” She’d been patient and forbearing enough with all the shenanigans.
Taking his hands gingerly, and only so she could properly gain her balance, the youth stood up from her crouch, basket over her arm, and things vaguely collected. She might’ve left some others in the snow, but it was difficult to tell in the way they’d all haphazardly fallen around. “Thank you again,” came along, uncertain of what else to say.
Except she remembered she had treats in her pockets, and dug one out, intentionally for the mare, lifting it up for inspection. “Can I give her one?” She’d been patient and forbearing enough with all the shenanigans.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
