Lost Creek Hollow i'm floating down a river / oars freed from their holes long ago

The April sun shone brightly this morning, golden streaks breaking through the sparse spring canopy to highlight the forest floor. A sunbeam struck the surface of the creek, casting a glare that caused Larkspur to squint as she picked her way toward the shoreline. Despite the mild discomfort, a small smile played about her mouth. She could barely believe she was back in the hollow, at long last.

She took a seat and peered down at the gentle ripples, her blue eyes growing misty with memories. She had been so happy, growing up here. It was bittersweet, being here without her parents or brothers, yet the darkness that had weighed on Spur for much of her youth did not burden her now. Time—and it had taken quite a lot of it—was a great healer.

Her mother's pack had also helped her mend, though Spur's attention shifted from the past to the present and her eyes cleared as she tipped her snout upward and gazed into the woods. Slowly, she stood, walking with a barely-there limp as she explored the place where she'd been born.