|| A New Season. A New Person.

Spring seemed to have thrown its blanket on the Valley, urging in the wind the very prospect of springing forth. There was now the gentle warmth filtering through the kindred trees, among their leafy, verdant spectrum-green hues.

The air was laced with a blossom scent carried by the gentle breeze, and the earth seemed actually to be burgeoning with much-recovered vitality. There, indeed, Snufkin sat at the edge of the river where the water faintly gleamed like liquid mercury. His bare feet played on the soft, dew-saturated grass, mixing the soft, earthy smell of terrestrial life with the fragrance caught through his nose.

Nearby, his rod was staked firmly into a small rock to avoid slipping unnoticed from his fingers.

His hands kept a soothing rhythm on his guitar tilted up rather than strung, though this guitar seemed to pay off over the pouring of water and shrub resistance from the river while at peace among the towering trees. Eyes closed, attention seemingly lost to the notes that played,

he was in his own world without time travelling in time itself.

He had come to the Valley out of insufferably long wanderings upon finding this peaceful corner. What had been meant to last one day for peace before moving on became a decision to stay for two days instead. He More-so wanted to torment the park keepers here as there were a abundance.