Swiftcurrent Creek silver ribbons

After a time, the stranger started to sing. His voice was high and clear, like pure sunlight on a cloudless day. The girl wasn't sure what to make of it; she'd never heard a song that wasn't a devotion to Mother Rain or a plea to Father Fire. And never one this pretty.
Then the sound faded, a sense of loss in its wake. She wondered why he'd stopped, but only for a moment. She froze when he called out, ears pinning to her skull in dismay. No part of her wanted to venture further toward what she saw as the danger zone, but something in his voice sounded... kind? And what he'd said — about not wanting the others to find her; was he different somehow?
She picked through the trees carefully, with the air of a cautious doe. Now she could see him clearly, and she couldn't think of what to say. Torn between fear and fascination, she could hardly think. That song... it was very pretty, Out of all the thoughts racing through her mind, only that one seemed coherent at all. It was something simple, something grounding, and she needed that just now. She still wasn't sure if she'd been doing something wrong just by being close to a place like this.