Firefly Glen [PHE] to nurture the wounds my mother held

Moontide was not near the hustle and bustle and he liked it that way. He was secretly pleased that they were not so near the middle. He was not a man that liked to be the center of attention.

A softer chuckle. Very well.

The trail was not far. He motioned for her to step into place beside him and lead the way. He had found it while walking days prior to this hunt. There were willows on either side and they dripped down like small waving arms. There was a scent of what he would imagine would be honeysuckle in other seasons. The small creek lapped gently at the sides. It was dark in some places. But the light that filtered in through the willows as the sun rose gave it a patterned mark of sun spots throughout their trail.

This is a slower paced area. Not much traffic. The creek is not as large as the rivers.