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Cody's slouching through the scraggly weeds along the river, nothing much on his mind, feet crunching maple leaves underfoot. It's good.
Chloe tried to tempt Raven out of himself with tiny ruby red strawberries today. It didn't work. She's savoring them herself in a cup of black tea, steam curling around her hand as she stirs it.
The sunset's gorgeous — all rust and crimson and yolk-yellow shading to ultramarine. Alberta leaves the clearing, looking back over her shoulder and flicking her tail at the stag silhouetted against all that sky. He follows.
Zia's laughing in the late summer sunlight, bare toes curling in the dirt, as she pulls the last ripe tomato off its vine. Her white teeth flash as she bites into it, seeds and juice spilling over her fingers. She licks them, making sure she doesn't miss a drop.
Annie's found a new perch to replace her old thinking spot on St Paul's Cathedral. This one's high up a tall tree in Fitzhenry Park. She lies along the branch and watches the world beneath her. Nobody looks up.
Roy's got a look about him that makes Edna think of cider, hot and rich with cinnamon. She wonders how he'd taste.
Crazy Crow's comfortable, sitting by the big bonfire. The smell of the wood smoke calls to mind a story from his wandering, of when Cody tried to teach people about fire.
Maida licks her upper lip, but utterly fails to remove the whipped cream above it. There's some on the tip of her nose, too. She doesn't care, just grins and goes back to drinking her cocoa that's so sugary it's approaching pudding.
Jack's got his feet up, is smoking his pipe. He looks at his audience, feeling content. They're all listening intently, paying attention, and he knows where the story is going. He doesn't know how it'll get there, but it will.
Margaret stands at the edge of the firelight, looking out into the darkness. She takes a deep breath through her nose, just being, just feeling the air move through her. There's a hint of coffee, a rustle behind her. She turns and smiles at Cody, glad to be alive.