Got the dreamer's disease
Steps are taken with deliberate care as Fern winds her way through the Greatwood, though it's not so ordinary as avoiding mud and puddles. She is drifting towards any patch that looks more interesting than the last, stooping frequently to admire a worm wriggling its way to somewhere drier, or tilting her head to watch a raindrop bend down a bit of new growth struggling against the weight of so much moisture. Small, ordinary things to most, prove a wholly captivating world. This may be in part because much of the world, big or small, contains new potentials in abundance, and the Greatwood especially is somewhere entirely different from home. It could also be that these natural details will forever trace their way into her attention, and she's doing her very best to ensure they do so for her parents as well.
"Look!" she says in a hushed tone, glancing over at the dark dog near her. She waits for his focus to swivel, then points with her finger towards a dewy cluster of mushrooms. "You can eat some mushrooms, right? Are those the ones?" She is not tempted to reach for them, perfectly content to admire, her hands cupping across her knees.
Eventually the drum of the festival, the entire point of being here, does persuade her approach, but she clings tightly to Everest's side with a shy arm slung across the back of his neck, seeking the reassurance of his fur and presence.
"Look!" she says in a hushed tone, glancing over at the dark dog near her. She waits for his focus to swivel, then points with her finger towards a dewy cluster of mushrooms. "You can eat some mushrooms, right? Are those the ones?" She is not tempted to reach for them, perfectly content to admire, her hands cupping across her knees.
Eventually the drum of the festival, the entire point of being here, does persuade her approach, but she clings tightly to Everest's side with a shy arm slung across the back of his neck, seeking the reassurance of his fur and presence.
Fern
This world is gonna pull through, don't give up
