Tuktu Weir the traveler's prayer

she rose early to scour the hillside for something to fill the emptiness inside of her. loss, not hunger, puppets her steps. it is a hollow feeling that will not soon abate.
a splash; as she arrives to the weir's edge she peers among the reeds. the smell of apple blossom greets her. a bulbous creature sits atop a wood pile, gnawing at a piece of applewood bark.
like a little lord, she thinks. he even has a moat, preventing her from getting closer. how curious.