Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Lena, curious by nature and nosey at her worst, flew away from the festival proportions on rosy wings and semblances of freedom, plants tucked within her modest talons. It didn’t take her long to breeze over tar pits and puddles, but she was more or less intrigued by the swamps down below – hoping, by some chance, to catch the gilled musk deer in its natural habitat.
And considering she’d grabbed far too many herbs, maybe some more life could be placed here – beneficial for all.
It took her a few moments of cautious, hesitant, downward spiraling, utilizing her senses to ensure nothing too predacious or carnivorous was about (she wouldn’t want to come across gore crows or blind swamp rats in her current state – though, she supposed, she could always compel them away if need be).
Upon landing, she came along the edge of the boggy marsh, and started digging in the wet soil, scratching away at the plentiful earth.
And considering she’d grabbed far too many herbs, maybe some more life could be placed here – beneficial for all.
It took her a few moments of cautious, hesitant, downward spiraling, utilizing her senses to ensure nothing too predacious or carnivorous was about (she wouldn’t want to come across gore crows or blind swamp rats in her current state – though, she supposed, she could always compel them away if need be).
Upon landing, she came along the edge of the boggy marsh, and started digging in the wet soil, scratching away at the plentiful earth.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
