[se] Only way through is to follow the fog

Lena

hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul

Unaware of just how the simple notions of sweetgrass might’ve triggered other thoughts, she hummed under her breath. “I think I’ll take some for back home too,” with a light wink, carefully snagging at roots and stems away from Noah’s chosen pocket of greenery. Though they had some sweetshops amidst the stony sanction, there was nothing quite like the satisfaction of one’s own home baked goods. Perhaps she’d be able to share with patrons in the Celestine too.

From there, they could converse lightly back and forth on all necessary sentiments, before winding their way back to respective lands, new wares safely tucked within.

[FIN]

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