Moonlight pooled across the black water that lapped against the side of their humble wooden boat. Charlotte listened to the sound of Mark cutting the water with the oars. The wind stirred the wispy grass along the edge of the bank, the whispering noises calmed her longing heart. The moon was high in the sky, glowing brightly against the darkness. A perfect copy of it was reflected in the mostly unmoving waters.

A stone bridge stretched in an arc across the water. Charlotte imagined vines stretching over the stone, and weeds shooting out from between the cracks and holes in the bridge. She thought of all those who had stood on the bridge, gazing out into the wonders of the countryside, just like she longed to do.

Sitting on the cold stone edge of the bridge, was a boy, Damian. He gazed at the waters moving under the bridge, just beyond his swinging legs. He came here almost every night, imagining what was on the other side of the bridge, after the water passed under it. He yearned to explore the whispering forests, the beautiful banks, and the bustling towns. He watched a small boat pass by, and imagined being able to leave with them. For a second, he thought he saw someone turn and look in his direction, but, in the moonlight he couldn’t be sure. Damian turned his gaze back to the beautiful night sky as the boat continued downstream.