Living

Home, the word evoked a sigh of mixed emotions from the youth as she tussled with the facts of her new reality. Poet Vale -gone. Family -gone. Eye -gone. Nerian -here. It was an existence of few comforts and in this Chrysanthemum was troubled. To think of how much she had taken for granted before! It was all a very bitter thing to think about, and so she tried to do so less as she traveled blindly towards the heart of Stavanger Bay.

She had originally planned to spend yet another day waiting for Nerian as she came and went, but the herbalist had shooed her away from the den at noon. She made the excuse that it was a part of her healing, and while Chrys was tempted to believe this she was also conflicted by her own self conscious reservations. What if someone saw her -her face that was. What if they asked questions or stared? Whimpering quietly to herself Chrysanthemum prayed for a clear path as she rounded an area littered with boulders and foliage.

Coming around one particular rock she heard the distinctive sounds of effort. Shrinking back, but not vacating the area entirely, she watched from a short distance as erected ears bobbed repeatedly over the top -but never made it over. What in the world...?