Swiftcurrent Creek Gladfly Suite

An attempt of his name—the same distinct tone in her voice all but confirmed his thoughts. Her forehead pressed to his, her pale form wriggling on the ground—an eager and gentle soul, he assumed, and something they could truly benefit from within the creek ranks.

“Vystra stay?” Again he pulled back, lips viewable from her gaze. If she was not interested, he would see that she was fed and escorted further from their lands—despite her good nature he could not have loners lingering about.


Pained, he was reminded of Jakoul. Not deaf, but of little words. As dark as the night, where the girl before him was as pale as the moon.