Firefly Glen i look for high ground, for to build an ark

ying was silent, but arcturus found they did not need words to fill the space between them. their company was sufficient: she, encapsulated by her thoughts of the future and what she was making, and he, drawn into abstraction by the present and what was tangibly before him: musk, pine straw, the old scent of ermine..

he nosed a patch with a huff, finding the scent even more stale here. for now, it seemed their perimeters were safe and their stroll was coming to a conclusion. he did not wish to admit it, but he had enjoyed ying's company and dreaded the familiar bend, where he would make for home and she for her den in the wilderness.