found and lost

Lena

hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul

To say she was proud and excited at the semblance of visiting elsewhere (via a mission, of course) was an understatement – the youth positively radiated ebullience and enthrallment. She did strive to maintain some decorum, because she doubted Cian was the type of individual who enjoyed humming, and kept her composure as best she could. There were several instances of distraction by local wildlife, jotting down notes feverishly (she could have stared and watched the Hels all day), and the Eye kindly pointed out several landmarks that also bore significance and worth. And while the inquiries strained and the questions pulsed, it wasn’t the right time. There were other things to be accomplished.

She didn’t know Falke well, but the notion of his companion left out sent her into Caretaker mode, traipsing along, heading towards the bristling mayhem, watching in how the Eye took his time. Like it was a stroll.

So the youth eased her own breaths, slowed down the rapid intuitions, and then they wound up at the fallen brethren as if Cian had known where he was the entire time. Her gaze went immediately to Falke, but at the Eye’s direction, she nodded, indicating her understanding. A call, a pulse, gentle and luring, unfurled from the sanction of her soul – the reach towards a companion, possibly lost, possibly scared, nestling instinctively, like a sanctuary. She grabbed hold of a few treats from her pockets, and began to needle and poke her way around.

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