[h3][color=7ea7d8]Deeper and Deeper They Go[/color][/h3]

Smiling slightly at the boy's harsh whisper and cough of a name, Eveline committed the word to memory as she had down with the strange woman. 

[i][color=7ea7d8]'Robin, like the little bird.'[/color][/i]

The thought was brief and soon forgotten as the purple light shimmered off the feathers of the owl as he rejoined the strange troupe of travelers, perching a few branches about the flower child watching her with the same curiosity she had grown used to over the years. Everything had seemed to dull and quiet, even the roar and the crackling of the raging fire behind them. No screams, no birds, just silence. If anything that is what the girl found strange, very rarely had she ever heard a forest quieten before, a small tremor of trepidation and warning trickling through her as she continued to twirl in awe of the small fire flies.

The soft tug on her wrist snapped her out of the trance she had slipped into staring back at the boy with vivid and curious eyes, a slight tilt in her head mimicked the growing smile playing on her lips as she nodded once pulling her hand back slightly to slide it to rest against the others palm holding his hand like a child would their mothers, loose but not enough to be lost. Skipping slightly she twirled in a half moon around the messenger; this time pulling him with her as she rejoined MC grasping her hand as well, like one would a friend loose yet with a sense that the other would not let it fall.  

Completely at ease with her new companions Eveline continued down the path, humming softly to break the growing silence, it had become almost palpable and hung heavy in the air setting the girls nerves on end as the Owl launched back into the air silently keeping pace with the trio. The shadows followed the light, as they always would, slithering and shifting over the dead branches and roots as if urged on by a darker presence, yet they did not encroach on the small circle of light the fire flies made as they floated betwixt and around them. As friendly as the flower girl seemed she still gave no motion or even a notion that she would part with her name, perhaps in a brighter setting she could be coaxed to write it in the earth; a silly believe that knowing someones name gave them a slight power of you, even more so then naming an object. 

There was also the small fact  that the girl hadn't spoken since she was seven, she wondered briefly if she would even be able to speak should she attempt to utter a sound. With a slight shrug and another bright smile, she lead them deeper down the path taking in what she could see curiously. In truth the view on the ground offered little vantage too heavy with brush and bramble for their hidden light source to break through the heavy darkness as it seemed to absorb the light rather then dispel at the touch of it. Perhaps this forest was wrong, but it held an air of magic and time, as if it was the first. The first forest, the one true forest, like in the stories her mother would whisper her to sleep with. The idea that she was in such a place fueled the girl's excitement as she pressed on, careful not to let go of the hands in hers, the ever growing feeling that to get separated would be as certain as a ill-timed death. 

The smell of fire still hung heavy in the air, but it was slowly replaced with the smell of water and iron, as the girl faltered slightly, a first, yet she was not found of things made of the new age. After all iron was just starting to be worked in the village, and to her that seemed like witchcraft. A soft hoot from the Owl seemed to only aid her distaste to continue on this path as she looked between her traveling companions, it they wished to press forward she would not argue, but the faint sound of laughter on the wind did little to settle her doubts.