Bramblepoint But I miss you in the mornings when I see the sun.

It was the soft thud of something falling to ground that drew Viinturuth's ears up. He blinked in the direction on the sound and stopped, burgundy gaze quick to locate the thinning frame of a stranger who stared his way. He watched her calmly, uncertain. There was a wildness to her wide, clearwater eyes; he chuffed softly in greeting.

He had spooked her, perhaps, and the way in which she'd looked at him - as though he were a ghost - unnerved him. Viinturuth followed her stumbling movements in the opposite direction with quiet concern in his eyes and, torn, he hesitated for a moment before he loped after her.

Wait, he called into the evening.