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Fields of white grain reflecting light. Evening sun and long shadows reaching. Blue hills gathering clouds, dark and cooling. The miles speed by, drawing me further and further from the wilderness, closer and closer to the realm I’ve made my own. My… home?

There is light where I have set my anchor, to drift in the airy regions. I cannot tangle in the trees. I cannot stumble on rough rock. I am airborne and valley bound. I cast out my thoughts, puzzling out the tangles. I am fishing. Yes, I am fishing. Aren’t we all? A glance, a smile, a seed of curiosity planted in us. Isn’t this the way of society?

A few days out in the backwoods. Every day full to the brim with stories, adventure, laughter. Refreshment. I’m reminded that not all males are the same; those males caught in the overlapping realms of my life. These, these here, are wholesome, good, true friends. Younger, yes. Younger than me. All the better. There’s no drama with this band of guys. I am the sister, the tomboy–one of their number.

The hills fade behind me. My thoughts drift backwards. Two days ago, I could see for miles in all directions, perched at the peak of high, high stone rising above the rolling mountains. Now, as I descend to my realm of society and complexities, the resurrected maze will lock me within its walls.

I cast out a line and follow its length. It’s glittering with golden light and hope, thrumming with music. I am enfolded in peace and goodness. Either it’s gold or I am a fool. You never know what lies around the bend in the trail.

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