Virgil ventured into the undergrowth, intrigued by nooks and crannies and craggy old branches, while the ferret's master was more interested in the meaning behind his surroundings. The rope swing, for instance. The homemade den reflected in the silver pool, above which shone beams of sunlight that turned the scene into a nostalgic paradise for an imaginative child.

Arven's mind conjured a picture of a small girl playing here; quite content, quite fulfilled, but... alone.

"And you were not permitted friends here?" he asked gently, careful not to betray the sympathy he felt.