Broken Antler Fen and every day is getting straighter,

at three years of age, or nearly so, arcturus was learned enough about the world to note the change of the season — and the implication it aroused within him.

certainly it was not just the fresh lilt of birdsong that quickened his pulse, nor the flowery dew of new blossoms on the wind. it was the scent that accompanied these springtime blooms; of womanhood while he went without.

soured by his misfortune and recent loss, arcturus picked along the babbling brook which wound its way through brechelaint. here the scents were thin and misty — and an idle quiet settled over the gloaming woods which left arcturus feeling more lonesome than ever.