Camping

Hera sits back against a tree trunk, strumming a sad, lonely tune on her lute and watching everyone mill around the campsite. <i>Has it really been only a year since we were doing this same thing, wandering through planes with a handful of strange and wonderful creatures?</i> she wonders. <i>Time seems to have gone by so fast.</i> With a sigh, she stretches her legs out and hums along with the melancholy song.