Little Goat Mountain the poem that took place of a mountain

She laughed at him.

Not only was the sound one that he wasn’t entirely used to hearing, but never before had it been directed towards him. Xan frowned, and then he glared, unsettled by the noise. Never in his life had he been interested in healing others, and so the knowledge to do so was something that he’d, obviously, never attempted to acquire. It hadn’t been important, nor a necessity, when he’d been growing up. There had always existed an actual, qualified healer in his home, so he’d never thought much of it. To be what felt like ridiculed for his lack of experience bothered him to no end, especially since it was something that he couldn’t help or change.

Even after she’d stopped laughing, his glare had remained. Regret was felt, both for having chosen to travel out in the sunlight and for pursuing her. Everything could have been avoided had he just kept walking, but he hadn’t, and he even continued to remain there. There was nothing to prevent him from leaving, and yet, he’d stayed thus far. Despite his irritation and discomfort, he’d not left the duo. Across from them was where he stood, waiting to hear everything and anything that might be said whilst simultaneously preparing his own potential responses.

A question was asked, and his reaction was a wordless one. Ears perked and his face scrunched up to display his confusion, but it was not because he didn’t know what the tree looked like. “Yeah, but why would I go near one?” asked the boy. “Those trees are dangerous.” Alexander didn’t know shit about plants, but he did know that the willow trees could not be trusted.