Firefly Glen petals so pretty, roots too strong

zephyra had never made it far past the reigns of the yellowstone encampment. she did not feel the same pull to socialize as her sister might, and in this reclusiveness simmered the smallest tang of jealousy. she wished she was as independent as her sister, but when it came to conversing with strangers, zephyra held little confidence. 

she preferred to play the day away with alasdair, but even in that she came second. he had grown larger than she, and his strength had grown with him. second to her sister in boldness, second to her brother in brawn, and second to be born. perhaps she was simply destined to be second.

the call of her mother had pulled the girl from her pre-teen angst driven anxiety and toward where the silhouette of nephele stood. she shuffled her way over beside her mother before flopping against her in a dramatic fashion and letting loose a sigh that might suggest she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. being a kid was tough.