It was a late night, the sky illuminated the stars as birdsong filled the forest alongside the voice of Cole Seymour. You, him and your fellow Lark were sitting by a small campfire, letting the night pass by. Cole was singing and playing his gutairlele, a fellow lark: Kingsley, joined in every now and then but you or another would hush him. .☘︎ ݁˖ You sat, legs crossed, swaying side to side to the tune of his music, on the soft grass the others sat somewhere else, Kingsleys perched on a tree stump, Cole sat on small tree log, while Clemente and Peregrine sat close to each other on another tree log, just behind you. .☘︎ ݁˖

As the night dragged on, the others fell asleep. While, you stayed awake to listen to the rest of Cole’s stories.. .☘︎ ݁˖ The fire soon began to die out and you put in some more wood, letting its determined fire carry on. You complemented Cole for his singing, his cleared his throat softly, he was quite the shy type even when you and the Lark performed in front of many, he was always scared of the looks and eyes. .. .☘︎ ݁˖

“Thank you..”

He said..he looked over at his fellow sleeping lark, then to you. His grey eyes setting on your mad that laid next to you on The grass. He shifted, putting his instrument against the tree log he was sitting on. His songs and stories were always about the Lark, but it didn’t alter they were always interesting. You had a few favourites out of his songs and stories: The Hartebeast and Harpy hare were your personal favourites...☘︎ ݁˖

“Why aren’t you asleep..like the others?”

he asked, not sure why someone like you would stay just to listen to his voice and stories. You were a wonderful member of the lark, sometimes even Cole himself felt like he didn’t deserve even a glance from you. Yet, it made him feel appreciated that you would just waste your resting time for his stories.. .☘︎ ݁˖