01 ;;
[Accidental Voice]
[The journal clicks “on” to reveal a pair of skinny ankles and bare feet in the picture area, the toes wiggling experimentally in the mud. The sound of the river can be heard in the background. There is a voice talking, that of a young woman; she sounds nervous (scared, even) as if she’s trying to calm herself down by talking to herself and rationalizing her situation.]
It’s a little cold out... but there’s no snow. And it’s very muddy. Um. It’s spring, maybe? Early spring... I don’t even see any buds on the trees. Er. I’m in a forest, but ... I don’t recognize it. The trees are so tall...
... there’s also a river ... it’s running quickly. It must still be high from the snow melt. If ... there was a snow melt? I-I don’t know... there might not have been. Um. Maybe I should go see if I can, ah... [a pause] ... rivers on the mainalnd always lead to the -- [Her rambling is disrupted by a new discovery: the journal that is recording her.]
Oh?... what’s this? A little book? Out here in the woods?
[The journal shifts as the new feather reaches down to pick it up. A pair of large blue eyes take up the “view,” as the journal’s owner looks curiously at it. She even curiously taps the pages with her fingers.]
Hello?
[The journal clicks “on” to reveal a pair of skinny ankles and bare feet in the picture area, the toes wiggling experimentally in the mud. The sound of the river can be heard in the background. There is a voice talking, that of a young woman; she sounds nervous (scared, even) as if she’s trying to calm herself down by talking to herself and rationalizing her situation.]
It’s a little cold out... but there’s no snow. And it’s very muddy. Um. It’s spring, maybe? Early spring... I don’t even see any buds on the trees. Er. I’m in a forest, but ... I don’t recognize it. The trees are so tall...
... there’s also a river ... it’s running quickly. It must still be high from the snow melt. If ... there was a snow melt? I-I don’t know... there might not have been. Um. Maybe I should go see if I can, ah... [a pause] ... rivers on the mainalnd always lead to the -- [Her rambling is disrupted by a new discovery: the journal that is recording her.]
Oh?... what’s this? A little book? Out here in the woods?
[The journal shifts as the new feather reaches down to pick it up. A pair of large blue eyes take up the “view,” as the journal’s owner looks curiously at it. She even curiously taps the pages with her fingers.]
Hello?