hearts like wildflowers

Lena

hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul

Not to be waylaid, outdone, or bothered by the lack of fortune and shiny things in Finn’s pockets, one of the clustered made a snag for some paper, for some notes, for anything it could get its mouth around. Permitted its merriment and delight, there were a few gurgles of utter excitement and thrill, as Lena shook her head, stifling another round of laughter. But her smile was warm and bright again, even as she stripped off the bandages.

“Healing well, I see,” was a soft murmur as she inspected, and allowed Finn an opportunity to look at the wounds, if he chose to lean over while she unfurled the clean roll, applying ointment into the sanction. “I’m assuming they were attacked by a predator.” Claw marks were etched in rapid, sharp, keen blades along the one in her boundaries, and once the man had been capable of glancing over the semblances, she began to wrap it once more. “A group of them could be an easy meal for something large.” Her glance grew only a little wary, sometimes tired of the inevitable alterations in food chains – especially ones such as these, as a few of them began to breathe small, puffy clouds, watching as they billowed around the enclosure.

and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all