L E N A
reaching as I sink down into light

The Edge was healing, the sharpened punctures of resonating lacerations retreating, fleeting, as the forest began to soothe, assuaging and relieving the crushed partitions of logs, drugged, dragged copses reaching back into the light; consolation, comfort and solace. Without the withering, decrepit ash sinking and saturating lungs, hearts, and minds, new life breathed into their scenic venue, flowering, flourishing, prospering from delicate, warped blossoms into a luscious glade of florets, thriving even in the hot, molten rays of the sun. Renewal, regeneration, and revival, in the silken shelter of strength, perseverance and guidance. And with the assurance of rejuvenation came the stalwart wish for more creatures inhabiting the precious palisade, to fill the roots, timber and grassland, to stretch beyond the unsettled horizon and brandish swords towards their arcane fates and destinies, mingle, intertwine with the pulsing regard of so many other dedicated wanderers. They deserved this, the desire for resilience, the yearning for prosperity – they’d already suffered from the hysterical mania of abhorrence. So, she searched, the mystical, enigmatic nymph, the spirited sylph, the ethereal naiad, for more tender souls who longed to carve their names into the trunk of a home. Her own nomadic, Romani motions enhanced this drifting, meandering prose and poise, so used to the winding roads of yesterday’s calamity and today’s hope, movements were soft, radiant, dulcet actions that rendered silence, quiet, peace, allowing the forage of others to go undistracted. Her gaze turned and twisted upon the interlocking branches, the searing, seizing leaves, breath pushing at their tickling armaments until the ghostly scent of another, two, distracted her altogether. She followed, deliberate finesse coiled again in the fabric of her rich, bay hide, reaching for the lost souls of this brackened, illusive world. When she finally came across the duo, she gasped, a light, hollow sound that broke into the silent, hushed realm – were they in pain - one supported, one carried, gestures of a wounded, beleaguered set. Lena immediately allowed her frame to be seen, taken from the glade, placing her body towards the others, stare rigidly composed to one, then the other. Was there something she could do to aid them? What was the cause of their distress (indeed, was there something lurking in the shadows that enacted this ill plunge, this savage brutality)? Her soft tunes floated from her parted mouth, lips not drawn into her usual, patterned smile, all worries settling into the crisp pose of her body. “Are you well? Can I help?"