Sun Mote Copse time's the revelator

indeed, time flew. and the lives within time often flew past, too. arcturus did not contemplate such heavy matters, but he felt the pull of time all the same every day.

wraen's scent was thicker closer to the water. the mountaineer slowed and listened to to the rush of the river and the little lives that stirred beside it: the brush of reeds, the chirps of birds, the soft thrumming of a thousand insects: a peaceful orchestra that had even his eyes growing heavy.

rounding a collapsed tree, arcturus recognized the sign of freshly tilled earth. his eyes took some time to adjust to the shadows, but under the eaves he made out wraen's form seemingly sleeping.

he moved gingerly. resting on his haunches, arcturus stole a look to wraen in a moment where she was truly unarmed, and he truly unnoticed. here he fondly traced the depth of her features, the lines he had come to know and even loved, even if wraen was not aware of it.

he did not wish to stare, but she captivated him so -- eventually, the ostrega cleared his throat and winced at how the noise disturbed what for a minute had been a very tranquil (and fleeting) time in his life.