Sun Mote Copse caught in a river of rockers and dreams

featherlight tread; a quiet had perched between them like a dove as they ambled - cinder encased in a chasm of thought, trailing with a wordless comfort that he felt warmed his bones. he valued her company, however temporary; to feel at his side for the first time in many moons someone familiar, someone who struck within him chords of solace, of succour and ease. he didn’t allow himself to dwell on the news, not yet, not now.

at some point, with halted pawsteps and inspiring breath, towhee took her leave, and the blackthorn inclined his chin in gentle acknowledgement of her words. in her stead remained (beside the restful earth-bed) a figure, who without word enkindled a sudden swathe of memory to the surface of cinder’s mind. “eljay!” he beamed as his monochrome brother made to bump his cheek, eager for time away from the sweet and sour of his mind. he shuffled closer, heart swelling with a tide of endearment. “it’s so good to see you.”