Firefly Glen Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl

so delved in her thoughts that she nearly stumbled upon the man, his voice a sharp gash across the weight of her mind. she jerked, abruptly brought to focus at the soft coo of "hey". there was a familiarity to it, a charm that had the faintest glimmer of anticipation gloss across her eyes. arktos?

but when she raised her head, it was not him. a stranger stood there in his place. troubled — yes, she was troubled. but could he help? "i do not know," she answered truthfully, for she had no design in what course to take. the path led through a thicket, through thorns and thistles, and she could not see to the end of it for the answer that she so desperately sought.

a breath — "i do not know what to do."