Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
After offerings, there were always multitudes of travels to parse through, and ample forests to snag at herbs, vegetation, and anything else that might aid creatures on the mend. While Mittens floated alongside, the Caretaker strolled her way through the Mistbanks. Her pauses were numerous, crouching down to inspect newfound moss or a certain shrub, absorbed in her task and dealings, ensuring her companion stayed at her side through the vantage of a longer, leash-like scarf.
But as they strolled, she hadn’t anticipated seeing another – especially after she nearly tripped over his familiar form, sprawled amidst the forest floor. “Noah!” She stumbled, catching herself on a nearby tree, hand extended, while Mittens fought to gain some access and wallop its form into Noah’s features. Not allowing it to happen, but surprised nonetheless, the youth shook her head, rather embarrassed. “Sorry! I didn’t expect to see anyone here.” Her eyes flicked briefly back and forth, from plant to man, before her brow arched. “Nor did I think you were one for tending plants.”
But as they strolled, she hadn’t anticipated seeing another – especially after she nearly tripped over his familiar form, sprawled amidst the forest floor. “Noah!” She stumbled, catching herself on a nearby tree, hand extended, while Mittens fought to gain some access and wallop its form into Noah’s features. Not allowing it to happen, but surprised nonetheless, the youth shook her head, rather embarrassed. “Sorry! I didn’t expect to see anyone here.” Her eyes flicked briefly back and forth, from plant to man, before her brow arched. “Nor did I think you were one for tending plants.”
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
