Witch's Marsh collected fifteen gold-wing'd bees, tremulous buzzing

She is the first to question Poet's abstract musings, offering one answer for another. Fair enough. Poet smiles back, contemplating for a moment best how to explain. "It is a season of rebirth, the twin of winter... but I find the heat makes me more restless, more likely to linger on past events. We make our homes in winter and leave them in summer, do we not?" As if she's old enough to truly speak! And yet it feels true (perhaps Phocion's ideas of the sun are not so far from the truth after all). More honestly she adds, "I left an old home behind some months ago, and I have not been so close to it since," gesturing with her foxpoint nose in the direction of Bearclaw. "Yourself?"