//------------------------------//
// It's Just a Forest ... 
// Story: The Dragon in the Mountain 
// by ShouldNotExist 
//------------------------------//

-It’s Just a Forest ...-



I scrambled through my empty house in flurry of nervous activity. My parents wouldn’t be back until at least sundown, so I had a little time. We had a two room house, fairly large for our village. The first room was where I slept, my bed and everything I owned on shelves and in the one dresser beside my bed. The library was there too, a shelf with books sloppily piled onto it. The second room was my parents’, and where we kept things that were less necessary, like clothes.

I emptied my saddlebags over my bed, the tight sheets catching the contents soundlessly. I put my coinpurse back into my bags, the small sack jingling slightly with the few bits actually in it. The kerchief went back as well; I’d need it to perform one of the spells. I’d bring my lyre of course; I honestly would feel naked without it.

I ran to the library shelf, counting books off before finding the one I was looking for. It was thinly bound, the pages not counting nearly as many as some of the others. But I’d read it before, so I knew there was a spell for finding lost things in here, so long as you had a piece of what was lost. Like a button from a coat, or the shavings from a favourite pencil. But it worked on ponies too; a hair or something and you could find them. I had to hope it would work on a dragon as well.

I threw it into my bag. I’d perform the spell on my way out of town. The next one I needed was at the other end of the shelf and I danced nervously over to it. It wasn’t actually the subject of the book I was interested in, but written within the cover page of the book was a spell that I’d stitched together to let me see in the dark. It was mostly so that I could read late at night, but if I cranked it up a little, it would work perfectly for sneaking out in the dark.

I memorised the series of numbers and symbols I’d used to work the spell, it had taken weeks to narrow down the right frequencies when I’d first made it. I really only needed a refresher since I’ve used it so often, just to make sure I would remember it. I replaced the thick tome back on the shelf, resuming my shuffling about the cabin.

I pulled open the trapdoor in the corner, hopping down the steep stairs to the pantry. I pocketed a loaf of bread, a small wedge of cheese following it. I wouldn’t be able to carry a clay water bottle, but thankfully we had some extra magically watertight bags that I was able to fill. I also snatched a tiny bag of strawberries. I couldn’t help it.

It did make me feel guilty, if that’s any consolation.

I put them into the saddlebags, shuffling them around to make sure they fit correctly. I panicked slightly when I thought I heard somepony coming up the steps to the door, but they passed by the house without coming up. I breathed in relief, and looked over my bags again. 

I have no idea if I had what I would need, or even what was remotely required for something like this. I was just throwing things in that I thought I might want, and hoped I’d be back by morning, in all honesty. I think a part of me really wanted me to forget about all this as soon as possible, or for somepony to talk me out of it. But every time I got close to giving up on the whole thing I remembered Bon-Bon, burning up from the inside.

At this point I wasn’t sure what else I could need, just a few things to make what I assumed to be a long walk more comfortable. I’m fairly confident that I knew enough about the local flora that I won’t eat anything poisonous. At least I hoped that was true, it was all I really had left: Hope.

I wrapped my mother’s coat around me tightly, finding the deep purple garment folded underneath her bed where it usually was. I threw my saddlebags over my back and used my magic to tighten the straps, perhaps a bit too much as I felt my breath get squeezed out. But I was in a hurry and didn’t want to wait around any longer; my parents would be back before sunset.

I blew out the candles that I’d lit, dropping the tiny cottage into a twilight that was only maintained by the slowly dying sunlight coming in from under the door. I sneaked toward it as quietly as I could, slowly opening it on sparingly oiled hinges. When I peaked out the street was nearly empty; only one of the older ponies in town giving their dog a walk going in the opposite direction.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stepped out quietly, the door creaking ever so quietly on its neglected hinges. I made my way down the street quickly and stayed low to the ground and stuck to lesser used streets. I must have looked a little silly but the sun was setting fast now, its orange glow ready to set behind the mountains to the West, and ponies would be going home soon. I needed a hiding spot.

I could hide by the waterwheels. All the noise from them would stop anypony from hearing me, plus the spinning would make it harder for anypony to see me behind them in the dark. It was as good as I was going to get, though not the closest to the path leading into the Everfree.

It only took a few more turns for me to reach the edge of town where the water wheels spread out along the river that flowed out of the Everfree. The only ponies I would have to worry about at this point would be the Belles; their cottage was only a short distance from the furthest one, where I wanted to hide. I’d have to be especially careful of the youngest of them: Sweetie Belle.

Sweetie Belle and her two friends always had a way of being in just the right place at just the right time to get into amounts of mischief that shouldn’t even be possible for anypony so young. And it had been more than one occasion where I’d gotten dragged into it. But, come on, who could resist the temptation of trying to confuse Pinkie Pie? It was like an unspoken challenge that had been staring me in the face ever since I’d met the former rock farmer.

I was never sure how that particular activity could have ever been associated with cutie marks, but it had been fun until we’d been caught. Apparently Pinkie was more aware of what was going on around her than I had originally given her credit for, and sugar is painful when it gets in your eyes.

As I neared the water wheel that ran the textile mill, the sound of its axle turning on huge bearings became the only thing I could hear. It towered over me, the slope of the river’s edge giving me enough room to hide under the platform that held it over the water and lead its axle into the enclosed textile mill.

I shuffled underneath as quietly as I could, hoping that nopony was actually inside at the moment. If any of the Belles were nearby they might actually be able to feel my magic as I prepared to leave. My magic had never been very … tidy. When I cast a spell, random magic always ended up getting wasted and just causing a flux in the ambient magic in the air. When I was a filly it was even worse, even pegasi could feel it when I tried to cast a spell. I don’t even know what I’m doing wrong, I just end up winding myself with anything moderately taxing.

“Lyra?”

I froze. Jinxed it, harp-butt, I mentally berated myself. Slowly, I turned my head to look behind me. In the fading light I could just make out the shape of a filly standing under the floor.

“Hi, Sweetie Belle,” I said nervously, trying my best to give her an innocent looking smile. I think it came out as more of a nervous grimace. Sweetie merely turned her head to the side as she looked at me, young and innocent confusion showing in a tight frown on her face.

“What are you doing under the mill, Lyra? Are you looking for something?” she asked, taking a few steps closer to me so that we could see each other better. “All you’re going to find down here is a few bent needles and maybe some bits of thread,” she said innocently, leaning up to pull on a short piece of thread that was hanging from between a couple of boards above us with her mouth.

“I could ask you the same thing, isn’t it past your bedtime?” I said, trying to change the subject and maybe get her to leave. I’m not sure if she’d be able to tell what kind of spell I was going to use, but she would probably still ask too many questions.

“I’m too old for a bedtime anymore, Lyra,” she protested as she spat out the thread, a defiant crease in her muzzle appearing as she spoke. “And I dropped a mane-clip earlier and I’ve been looking for it all day, I thought that it might have fallen down here while I was … helping my sister,” she said, pausing to consider her words for a moment. Something told me that she hadn’t actually been helping, or that she’d been turned into a living ponnequin by the fussy unicorn.

I paused, watching nervously as Sweetie Belle started to examine the ground in the dark. “Here, I betcha I can you find it. Give me some of your mane,” I said, pulling out the thin book from my saddlebags. Without waiting for her to question it, I plucked a hair from her mane, eliciting a small yelp of protest from her. In the glow of my horn I was able to read the tattered old book. 

The spell floated in front of me, Sweetie’s hair weaving around a small pebble that I picked up off of the ground. My horn gave a small flash, the hair tying around the smooth pebble to let it hang from it like a pendant. I concentrated on the equation before me, an enchanting variant of the spell that can find lost things. Her hair should have a small connection to the mane-clip since it had been in her mane.

I felt small trails start stretching out from the stone, a very strong one pointing directly at Sweetie Belle and another two stretching toward her house away from the river. Another trail pointed right underneath me, and I propped myself up slightly to find that I’d been sitting on top of a little pink mane clip.

“There it is!” Sweetie Belle chimed, her voice squeaked as she spoke. She hopped in place, nearly bumping her horn against the floor above us. I picked it up and tucked it into her mane for her and she beamed up at me in the light of my horn. “Thanks, Miss Lyra. What were you doing down here anyway?” she asked, unfortunately quickly latching back onto that subject.

“Finding your junk, apparently,” I said, sticking my tongue out at her. It got her to laugh, and I surprised myself with how calm and friendly I’d just sounded despite the fact that my heart was pounding at the inside of my chest.

“Hey! Tomorrow the other crusaders and I are going to go and try and get our cutie marks in kite flying. Wanna come?” she asked, happily starting to back out from underneath the mill. I followed her on my knees, hoping that by following her it wouldn’t bring up the question as to why I was staying underneath the mill.

“That sounds surprisingly tame for you three,” I noted, smiling suspiciously at her. Who knew how they would get this one to go wrong. “I’ll see what I can do, see you then,” I said turning to walk around the mill. Sweetie gave me a final wave goodbye before finally running off down the path toward the few houses situated out here.

I sighed in relief as the danger of being found out finally had run off. I went around to the other side of the mill and waited for her to get out of sight on the darkening path. Sunlight was barely here anymore, only the faintest amount of orange still showing on the clouds and quickly fading. I would need my spell soon.

I focussed, trying to recall the numbers I would need to be able to cast the spell. It worked by placing a magical light filter inside my retinas, and by casting an infrared light from my horn. Nopony would be able to see the light, and the filters would expand the light into a sort of red hue for me. That way, I could read at night without even having to light a single candle. It would be perfect; I wouldn’t be announcing my position with a lantern or something using this.

I felt a small pinch at the base of my horn as I weaved the magic into the translations. The world suddenly shifted from the darkness to a dull red hue, the path in front of me lit up with the otherwise now invisible glow of my horn. I let out a huff as I started walking down the path. My saddlebags suddenly felt a whole lot heavier.

The border of the Everfree was not something easily missed, even among the trees that lined the paths. It was a wall of vegetation that suddenly choked the path, and even in the light of my horn was as dark as the sky. I felt another lump growing in my throat as I looked into the undergrowth, and hoped dearly that I wasn’t shaking as much as I thought I was.

I took a deep breath and pulled out the book again, this time dragging along the stained kerchief as well. I could see the black mark where the dragon’s blood had soaked in, and I swear that it was still glistening with moisture. I have no idea if dragon blood doesn’t evaporate or something, but I knew that it was still wet on the kerchief.

This was going to be more difficult. The enchantment version of the spell relied on the object that would be finding the other, the simpler the better. A crystal was best because it was all one uniform structure. But with the amount of distance that this was going to cover, I would need to cast it over and over again, and that would simply burn out anything I tried to use. So I would just have to cast it without that, and that was a bit more complicated.

I concentrated on the kerchief, and the blood soaked into it. My magic closed in on the blood itself, and stuck to it in a way I didn’t expect it to. Rather than being slippery and hard to concentrate on, like anything else with an illusion matrix should have had, it was so easy to find and grasp onto that it almost felt like it was trying to grab my magic. I shook off the strange idea and continued with the spell.

I pictured a dragon in my head; green scales like the toe had had, and as big as a house. I swallowed the fear that it produced in myself from the image, I could practically feel it looming over me already. And at that moment a line of light appeared in my vision, pointing up into the clouds in the direction of the mountain.

I sighed shakily as I memorized the direction, rolling up the kerchief and slipping it into the pocket of the coat. I found myself wishing for a compass as I took my first step. The line connected to the kerchief wobbled as I moved it and slowly faded into nothing more than a few points of light that flickered out of existence.

My eyes fell back onto the black trees, their darkness yawning in front of me. They looked awfully threatening in the red light of my horn, and I wondered vaguely if I could stop and find a way to change the color. Maybe a calming green instead … No. If I do that I might not be able to make myself go in. The path was literally right in front of me, but for some reason it seemed even more devious than wandering through the forest without it would be.

After all, that would be the first place I’d look if I was searching for somepony trying to leave the town. I took a nervous glance behind me, biting my lip in nervousness as I forced myself to start walking into the forest. As soon as I was across the unnaturally neat border between the forest and the town, it was like I’d been swallowed by shadows.

My light still worked fine, sure, but that wasn’t the problem. The trees and bushes around glowed the same dull red that let me see, but beyond that was a wall of shifting darkness as the light moved with me. When a stray leaf would catch my light and poke itself out from the darkness anyway, it felt like eyes were watching me.

My legs shook as I continued to force myself to put one hoof in front of the other, and walk. Tall grasses and ferns brushed against my fetlocks, feeling like little creepy crawly...things reaching out and grabbing at my hooves. The air was stuffy, heavy with humidity even this late into autumn. It was oppressive. I could barely breath. 

And that might not have even been so bad if it weren’t for the fact that it was dead silent.

I hadn’t noticed the little sounds in the night before. The occasional chirp of a grasshopper, a toad croaking absentmindedly by the river. The sound of the breeze going over the grass and stirring the leaves of trees gently. Even the sound of the river bubbling along, I should have been able to hear that. But there was nothing but the sound of my breathing and of my hooves brushing through the undergrowth.

An owl hooted behind me suddenly, shattering the silence for just a brief moment.

I didn’t scream, at all. Nor did I start running as fast as my legs could carry me, it was more of a … very fast walk. Yeah, walking …

Okay, I screamed like a little filly and ran like my life depended on it. I don’t know how long I ended up running, but whenever I ran out of breath I just gulped down another mouthful of air and continued screaming. If nothing had known I was in the forest before, it certainly would know about it now. Eventually, my legs started burning and I had to stop to catch my breath and calm the very violent drum solo in my chest.

I collapsed against a tree, clinging to it with my hooves to keep myself from falling onto the ground. I hadn’t noticed how cold my hooves were until now, they were practically numb against the smooth bark of the slender tree I leaned against. The inside of my throat was on fire from all the hysterical screaming, and my legs shook slightly from the sudden exertion. Even my back ached a bit from where my saddlebags had mercilessly been bouncing around.

I finally managed to catch my breath and was more than content to simply slide down the tree and sit on the forest floor for a moment. My heart was calming, though my ribs felt like they’d taken a beating from the inside.

I hate birds.

“Oh come on, Lyra,” a voice called from the back of my thoughts, bringing me to pause in my fear induced hyperventilation. “It’s just a bunch of birds! And I bet they won’t even peck at us or anything,” Bon-Bon’s voice called to me, a memory stirring even as my eyes searched the shifting darkness around me. For a moment I stopped, just listening in hopes of hearing more. Just waiting to try and remember better days, days spent with Bon-Bon.

Another fucking owl hooted above me, passing on silent wings. I let out high pitched squeal as it did, quickly covering my mouth with a hoof to stifle myself. But it passed quickly and I let out a shaky breath. I hope that it wasn’t going to come back to torment me any longer. I almost didn’t know why I was so scared. I knew that Fluttershy was always going into the forest, despite her ironically shy and skittish nature. Yet here I was, one who considered herself made of something a bit tougher than the butter yellow pegasus was, scared to death of an owl.

But despite that, the choking darkness still shifted around me. I knew it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, looking for things that weren’t actually there. But I still felt a tightness in my throat, and the crippling thought in the back of my head that if I turned around fast enough that something with sharp teeth would meet my gaze. My heart was still trying to play a fast-paced tune on my ribs, and my breath was coming in short shallow gasps.

I tried to think, to logically work my way around the fear. If I stopped concentrating on the darkness, and stopped thinking about Bon-Bon, I might be able to make it up the mountain without having a heart attack. I was never very good at that however, and the creaking of the branches above me making me jump suddenly didn’t help. My eyes shot up so fast I felt my neck crack just from the momentum alone. An owl stared down at me from the branches; for all I knew, the exact same one that had scared me earlier.

“Dumb bird,” I grumbled, his large eyes reflecting back the glow from my horn like two big saucers of silver-red. A quiet hoot left its tiny beak, the tiny line of bone returning to its place in its downy face as it just stared at me. “What am I doing?” I asked myself, slumping further against the tree.

“Hoo,” the owl responded.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I grumbled back I frowned hard up at the bird to make my dissatisfaction clear. It simply stared back, blissfully silent.

Wait, wait, wait. There was something that Pinkie did once. There was a colt, Pip... something, who’d gotten scared that day that the manta had flown over. He’d hidden underneath one of the mills in a place that nopony else could fit in to get him out. And nopony was able to calm him down enough to get him to come out on his own. Until Pinkie had done something ...

That’s right, she sang a song for him. And she’d made him sing it too. It was something bubbly and happy, about laughing it off … or something. I can’t remember exactly what it was. But it had worked, after the song the colt wasn’t as scared and Pinkie was able to convince him to come out.

Maybe if I just sing a song, I’ll be able to distract myself from the black-on-red darkness that I’d willingly subjected myself to. I always liked to play songs, I could just whip out my lyre and start walking. That was it, I’d just sing myself a song, and keep going. Hopefully there’s something to this or I’m going to feel awfully awkward while I’m being eaten. 

I felt for my lyre with my magic, the glow around me slightly brightening as I put the light source to some amount of use. The short length of bent wood greeted me with its worn smooth texture, the strings strung tight in their places. With a tiny pluck of my magic, a single note pierced the dark. And surprisingly, I felt immediately calmer. I don’t know if it was just the fact that there was something beside just the stuffy silence all around me that did it, or if it was the fact that it was some sort of a security blanket or something for me. Either way, I felt a little less silly about the idea now.

Now just to pick something to sing. I could do something silly, like what Pinkie did for that colt. But I wasn’t so sure I had the confidence to sing something like that. Maybe just something happy? A song that brings hope … It would have to do.

My magic plucked the strings rapidly, quickly quieting them in short bursts. A cheerful beat slowly formed together, and I allowed myself a moment to simply fall into the rhythm. After a bit of just letting the tune of my lyre fill my ears, I was able to keep it playing without so much as a second thought.

It was already working wonders, and I was able to peel myself off the tree and start walking down the path again. My breathing was shakily slowing as I started to concentrate on the music, I could already almost forget that I was in the one place that had a reason to be avoided besides revealing the town. The trees and plants even seemed slightly less intimidating and encroaching, though the red lighting was still freaky.

“As you go through life you shall see,” I started, my voice still shaky as I maintained a slow pace up the path. “There is so much that we, don’t understand,” I sang, being careful to keep with the cadence of the song. I felt slightly more confident in my steps, my hooves finding their places among the roots and weeds smoothly as I played. “And the only thing we know, is things don’t always go, the way we planned.”

I almost didn’t notice when I started to walk faster, the music becoming the only thing I could concentrate on. My legs did the walking, my mouth the singing, and my eyes did little other than staring blankly at the path before me. The forest was silent, listening to me play. An ancient and sleepy audience, turning its tired old ears to my song. I vaguely wondered if the forest could hear me, and now that I wasn’t just trespassing amongst its trunks and leaves, it was almost happy to have me here.

“But you will see every day, that we’ll never turn away.” My lyre sang with me, something I always loved to feel. The wood vibrating so softly in my magic’s touch, the cool strings biting into it as I plucked and muted and strummed. Even if it was a bit old and beat up, it still knew how to play. Even when I was a filly, it was like it knew how to teach me.

“When it seems all your dreams come undone. We will stand by your side, filled with hope and filled with pride.” My bags felt lighter, my hooves no longer ached. I was breathing calmly now, not even a tremor in my chest to disturb the lyrics filling my ears. It was like the music alone was enough to fill me with strength and energy.

“We are more than we are, we are one,” I sang, a happy little sway growing in my steps. I still felt the creepers and the weeds on my legs, but now they no longer felt like little legs crawling on me, instead they sort of felt … soft. It was like I was walking through soft young grain. Like when Bon-Bon and I used to just run through the fields together.

I swallowed, the next line catching in my throat as a bittersweet memory came back to me suddenly. We were just blank-flanked foals then, out playing tag in the fields. The green stems of the grains whistled past us, dashing our cheeks as if to protest to being bothered from their quiet growing. The clouds were particularly thin that day over the fields, giving everything a warm golden glow that I had never even seen before that day. There were only a few days like that that I could remember, where I was unflinchingly, unwaveringly happy.

“If there’s so much I must be, can I still just be me … The way I am?” I sang halfheartedly. My strumming had become less enthusiastic as I’d lost myself in the flash of a memory, my pace slowing back down to a slow walk. “Can I trust in my own heart, or am I just one part  of some big plan?” I asked myself, slowing to a stop to lift a hoof to my eyes.

My eyes were watering. When had that even started? I sniffed to clear my nose, a hiccup shaking me as I forced myself to stop. I just had to stop thinking for a moment.

That must have been the wrong song, and I hadn’t even gotten to the ending.

I remembered a lot of days like that one; just me and Bon-Bon, living in our little village. We’d cheer each other up when one of us was down. We ran, we played, we were just happy together. We forgot about the horrible world that was looming just above the clouds, just beyond these mountains. We did that together, for each other.

But now that might never happen again. Not with one of us withering away in the dark, like a flower that’s been potted in the wrong soil and cut off from the light. Dying slowly, hanging onto her life despite the circumstances.

And the thing was, no one could help her. Nopony would really care to either: Sickness as bad as Bon-Bon’s? It wouldn’t help her to prolong her suffering. Nopony would want to do that to her, help her. No one, except for me.

Therein lay the problem; I was the only one who’d want to help her. Whether it would be in vain was up to me. Even if I did find what I needed to help Bon-Bon, I could be too late and she’d be dead by the time I came back. If I didn’t find that cure though, she’d still die. If I gave up, she would die.

A life rested on my shoulders, and it was too heavy for me to carry.

My knees shook before I found myself once more on the ground amongst the greenery. My magic flickered and faded, dropping me into darkness. The red light that had made up my world left me, and I let myself cry in the darkness. The grass pressed up against me through the coat, my cold hooves shaking against the leaves. I must have wandered off the path slightly, otherwise I’d be sitting in bare dirt.

I just sat there, nose running and tears rolling down my cheeks. I felt so useless, like nothing I could do would help Bon-Bon. I was going to lose her, and nopony else was doing anything about it. I let myself get lost in it, mind drawing to a blank. Almost like meditating, if it weren’t for the crying that is.

Gradually the flow of tears slowed, my hiccuping sobs came to a halt. I sniffed to clear my nose, rubbing a hoof I could only barely see over my muzzle to wipe away the wet and snot. I let myself sit in the silence, willing myself not to think. Not even a whisper of wind resisted me.

Nothing. A blissful idea. Almost like being at an empty kind of peace. But I knew that it had to end eventually, I just didn’t want it to. My heart and my hooves were tired, it felt like the world was looming over me. An overpowering part of me simply wanted to lay here and simply stop being, to become one with the silence and darkness.

So it came to a surprise to me when the subtlest of lights edged into the bottom of my vision. My eyes followed the sudden presence of light reflexively, almost hungry for something to look at after all the darkness I’d been festering in. The softest of silver-blue glows put one of my hooves in silhouette, and when I lifted it I found a flower.

It was a closed bud, tall and curled at the tips of its star shaped fold, the same color as the tiny glow coming from its withered petals. I’d stepped on it and now it was squashed slightly. The petals quivered as they tried to open, and the glow grew. The gentle light lit other buds whose own glows began to grow inside them, each waking the other with their tiny radiance. 

With a shudder the flower I’d stepped on spread open, wide and then wider until it was a large white swath pointed skyward. The light flared from its pollen, spreading like little stars as it gave a shiver. Following their sister’s lead, more flowers opened, their glows twinkling like bright stars as they too flicked out their baby stars to drift in the cool air.

They spread around me, slowly filling the clearing in a grey light with only the smallest hint of blue. They stretched wide around me, vines of the flowers stretching up the sides of trees and aiming their pale white faces upwards. And as I followed them, I saw what had woken them up.

The trees limbs parted here, a tiny clearing. And peeking past the thinning clouds and canopy was the mare in the moon. Her cratered surface stared down through the clouds, a sad tilt to the details that made her eye. As if she was saying “Why are you crying?” I could almost imagine a soft voice, motherly, comforting, and wise with the millenias that she had lived through. It was enough to start the tears again.

The flowers felt warm, not like the cold ground and grass underneath them that I felt. They hugged my hooves and my sides, an embrace so gentle that I had barely noticed it. The moon flower’s twinkling pollen drifted up through the trees, my own shaky breathing making them dance as they passed me by.

The Princess’s moon looked down on me, respectfully keeping her silence for me. Like a good friend she held me close with her gentle presence, and that was enough. After a while, my tears ran dry and I was able to compose myself again.

“Okay, Princess Luna,” I whispered hoarsely up to her, a sliver of strength returning to my cold chest. “Okay. Thank you.” I stood slowly, carefully removing myself from the flowers’ friendly touch. With Luna looking over me, a comforting shimmer in the light she cast, I knew I could keep going.

I lit my horn again, only enough to lift my lyre back over to me. I traced the magic link again, its arc slightly shallower now than before, and started walking down the path again. A slow, comforting hum coming from my lips as I continued the song I’d started.

And I walked …

And walked …

And walked ...