Firefly Glen they say no one is living here

set at night

It was difficult to disinterest the willowy prince; that had to be known. He was the type who was so genuinely interested in everything that it would have taken a near miracle to find a subject that he could not completely envelope himself in. Even the earth was an astounding thing – beautiful and composed of savagery just as much as it was of beauty.

Though he was sheltered in his life and the life he had lived before in the Roseweald, there was an ancient knowledge within him. It was the mind and soul of the kings before him. The reverence was something that could not easily be taught, but was something he had been lucky enough to find.

The field was stunning, and he walked slowly through the vast expanse of brown grasses and high brush. Once or twice, he would slide his thin frame against the leaves and feel them wither away from his touch. On the third time he had done this, a burst of fireflies scattered into the air. Cavendish gasped softly, peering at their bright light as they drifted upward – bobbing and rising.