Jade Fern Grove I walked alone

Calida had wished for something more elsewhere.

Baudelaire had not. His vision was here, his desires were here. So their arranged marriage had failed rather fast, but he blamed not himself. Selfish and boyish still.

But now he was in unknown lands. Far from any loves or familiar places.

Yet he was not alone, another prowled through and he sought to hunt them down. Ghoulish hawkish eyes yearned for a glimpse of them.

Closer and closer.