Firefly Glen the metronome

The last few miles of sleep had been more treacherous than she was used to; unable to rest, she instead embarks towards Firefly Glen. It is early morning when she arrives, marked by the purplish glow that only this early hour can provide. Flurries gather ‘round her but do not stick (to her or the ground; both are too warm).

As a woman, she has grown into her stride. She remembers her littermates as children, how they walked, how they spoke. She’s changed so much she’s confident that these things she remembers are still accurate.

She pauses at the border to let out a low courtesy howl, a simple I am here, with the hope of finding company on an otherwise miserable and dreary morning.