I found her down in the old neighborhood near the blueberry swamp, where my mother lived and where Lop-Ear and I had built our first tree-shelter.

It was unexpected.

As I came under the tree I heard the familiar soft sound and looked up.

There she was, the Swift One, sitting on a limb and swinging her legs back and forth as she looked at me.
I stood still for some time.

The sight of her had made me very happy.
And then an unrest and a pain began to creep in on this happiness.