[se] and the birds still sing

Lena

hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul

She hadn’t forgotten his promise of assistance, and so the youth bobbed her head, smiled at the notion. “If I find some time, I’ll help your efforts.” A boundary in her benedictions, carefully waging how much she could take on while still processing everything that occurred – not an outright conviction, but a certainty in striving. Surely that counted for something.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in Stormbreak, then.” And with that, she gave the warpriest a wave, before turning with her basket and goods in tow, heading back the way she’d come along aisles, kiosks, and the sweet smell of fair food – hastening home through snow and sky portals.

[FIN]

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