[se] among the lost

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

The telltale movements and sound coming from the sand gave her an abrupt pause – stilling slightly. Placing the stopper back along the jar, she breathed, eyes watching, spotting, pondering her next course of action. She had no means to cease and stop a landshark in its predacious stages – save for compelling notions and her usual tactic of conversing – gentle Attuned graces, compassion, the patience and practice of someone who’d faced ursurs and dragons for a living.

Steeling herself, spine instantly ramrod straight, an unyielding, unbending sort of modicum directed her nuances and brief movements, certain not to make a sound and entice more of them. Hello she offered first to the impending creature; not noticing the other figure coming in amongst the shadows of dusk and the bright, glimmering horizon.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm