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Previous: www.deviantart.com/imp-gal-dra…

Bio was no fool. She knew the swamps were far from safe in its current state.

But she just needed time alone. And she couldn't get that in the camp.

Her mind was a bit of a mess, and it was affecting her work. She needed to settle some matters.

She walked around quietly, listening for any dangers or warning cries. But the world was quiet for the moment.

Finally spotting a sport, she checked for any danger again.

Hearing and seeing none, she made her way over.

She sat down on a, somewhat, clean bit of moss and stared out at the water. Its murky colors reflected the setting sun dimly, and dirty waves lapped lazily along the shore at her paws. Half dead lilly-pads and reeds moved in time with the waves, each breeze dusted a little more soot and ash free from both. It was like the land itself was breathing, ragged and slowly.

Bio sighed softly.

Maybe this place was beautiful once.

Maybe the Lilly pads bloomed in the springtime. Maybe the moss did too.

She looked the various fallen trees and rocks being consumed by moss and lichen, trying to picture them in bloom. They speckled the land with little white and pink flowers. Tiny, but noticeable if you got close. And at night, fireflies would dance all over the flowers, making each one glow briefly like a tiny star come down to the ground.

The water would be clearer too. Probably still mucky and dark, but the kind of dark that lets you see straight down to the bottom in the shade. Little druid kits looking for the tiny fish hiding among there twisty tree roots and hollows. Them squealing and yelping as they darted in and out of the little canopy in their games. If they played games like other kits that is.

It must make a great place to practice fighting too. She could imagine little druid kits trying to plan pretend battles to capture the various hollows and tree root clusters. Their small battle cries. How the would mark each cluster of roots as their own. Not to mention the great weapons that could be crafted from all the twigs and stones about.

The reeds would also make fun crafts for those who didn't want to fight. When the cattails were fully grown, kits and folks could weave them into crowns, baskets, and mats. Little floating boats to race, and some would try to make one strong enough to hold them and their friends.

The thoughts made her smile.

But as she pictured this, she couldn't help but constantly be drawn back to reality.

The patches of soot, large burn marks, and dead plant matter kept creeping their way into her fantasies. Her thoughts of beauty constantly challenged by the ugliness of the truth.

Maybe this place was indeed beautiful once. But it wasn't now.

Now, it was dying and suffering.

"That's what im here to help." She said softly, looking out at the water again.

"Maybe this place was beautiful once.... Or maybe i can't see its beauty since I didn't grow up here. But, I hope I can see it become beautiful again...weather I can see that beauty or not."

Word count: 541

Acorn counter

9/1763

Description

Previous: www.deviantart.com/imp-gal-dra…

Bio was no fool. She knew the swamps were far from safe in its current state.

But she just needed time alone. And she couldn't get that in the camp.

Her mind was a bit of a mess, and it was affecting her work. She needed to settle some matters.

She walked around quietly, listening for any dangers or warning cries. But the world was quiet for the moment.

Finally spotting a sport, she checked for any danger again.

Hearing and seeing none, she made her way over.

She sat down on a, somewhat, clean bit of moss and stared out at the water. Its murky colors reflected the setting sun dimly, and dirty waves lapped lazily along the shore at her paws. Half dead lilly-pads and reeds moved in time with the waves, each breeze dusted a little more soot and ash free from both. It was like the land itself was breathing, ragged and slowly.

Bio sighed softly.

Maybe this place was beautiful once.

Maybe the Lilly pads bloomed in the springtime. Maybe the moss did too.

She looked the various fallen trees and rocks being consumed by moss and lichen, trying to picture them in bloom. They speckled the land with little white and pink flowers. Tiny, but noticeable if you got close. And at night, fireflies would dance all over the flowers, making each one glow briefly like a tiny star come down to the ground.

The water would be clearer too. Probably still mucky and dark, but the kind of dark that lets you see straight down to the bottom in the shade. Little druid kits looking for the tiny fish hiding among there twisty tree roots and hollows. Them squealing and yelping as they darted in and out of the little canopy in their games. If they played games like other kits that is.

It must make a great place to practice fighting too. She could imagine little druid kits trying to plan pretend battles to capture the various hollows and tree root clusters. Their small battle cries. How the would mark each cluster of roots as their own. Not to mention the great weapons that could be crafted from all the twigs and stones about.

The reeds would also make fun crafts for those who didn't want to fight. When the cattails were fully grown, kits and folks could weave them into crowns, baskets, and mats. Little floating boats to race, and some would try to make one strong enough to hold them and their friends.

The thoughts made her smile.

But as she pictured this, she couldn't help but constantly be drawn back to reality.

The patches of soot, large burn marks, and dead plant matter kept creeping their way into her fantasies. Her thoughts of beauty constantly challenged by the ugliness of the truth.

Maybe this place was indeed beautiful once. But it wasn't now.

Now, it was dying and suffering.

"That's what im here to help." She said softly, looking out at the water again.

"Maybe this place was beautiful once.... Or maybe i can't see its beauty since I didn't grow up here. But, I hope I can see it become beautiful again...weather I can see that beauty or not."

Word count: 541

Acorn counter

9/1763