The Glen

She sat, as sill as she could. Her dainty feet were tucked under her nightgown, hiding from the night air chill. Her stringy dark blond hair held a frame around her face as she let her head hang down. Small bare arms hugged her legs to her chest. The forested glen smelled of fresh rain and Lily of the Valley, and beams of moonlight brought a neon glow to the moss surrounding her. She lifted her head to the towering trees and asked a silent prayer, as a single tear traveled down her cheek.