Firefly Glen it can change you

AW

the morning mist still clung to the glen like a secret.

solharr stood at its edge, broad shoulders cut sharp against the hush of spring. the grass, newly green, bowed gently beneath the weight of dew. above, ravens wheeled, silent. watching.

he did not move at first. only looked.

the trees here grew thick, some bent with age, others split by storms that had passed long before he had taken his first breath. he inhaled slow, deep, letting the scent of earth and pine roll through him like memory.

there were no strangers on the wind. no blood. no change.

but he did not trust peace to linger.

so he kept watching. waiting. silent as stone.