Hushed Willows Show me the places where the others gave you scars.

That's true, Reverie sighed, thinking wistfully of how much she loved the other birds that would be departing for the winter. I like most birds. Just - not ducks! When I was a child I had a pet hummingbird for a little while, a pretty orange and gold one. Her father had hated it. He'd hated it so much that one day he'd killed it, right in front of her, and Reverie had never forgiven him.

She brightened to see the lake ahead, however, all aglow with the colors of the evening sky. Her pace picked up, eyes finding Wayfarer for a moment to see what she thought of it. I wonder if it'll freeze... Reverie murmured, thinking now of the winter ahead. Her gaze drifted across the lake for a few seconds, then abruptly shifted back up to Wayfarer. Will you stay? I mean - I'm sure you have places to see! But, you know, winter is hard alone... and you're always welcome here, any time. And truth be told Reverie desperately missed having an abundance of friends surrounding her. She missed casual company and easy conversations; things she'd surrendered for love of her first husband and had never quite reclaimed since. Maybe it was thoughtless and childish of her, but Reverie couldn't help but reach for that now. She liked Wayfarer. Perhaps more than she should.