Lion Head Mesa Whoever lets himself be led by the heart will never lose his way.

Acceptance. He is pleased, readily taking the lead as she falls in step beside him. 

On through the halls, and outward toward the open mesa their path will lead. But he moves slow, intent upon enjoying the stroll—along with the hope she does as well, of course.

I have. The tune of her voice is so soft. Sweet, like honey. Gracious, like the purest of beings. He can't help but lighten his own voice, a drastic change from its usual baritone depth. 

They mean a great deal to me. I thank you again for your diligent work in finding them.