Firefly Glen I have you strung,

Cinar was always sweet. He was raised, trained to be.

Upon the description of the flower, he looked over the field for any red flowers that caught his eye.

Oh, you know, He chuckled, nowhere in particular. Where was he supposed to go anyways? There's nowhere I can return to, so I choose to wander instead. But with nowhere to return to, was the wandering really by choice?