as the day fades and the night begins to rise, the deep rouge of the western light vanishes amongst the horizon. the wayfarer and the girl lounge in the wake of the vessel, the conservatory trailing the contrivance. each root amongst the hearth floats in the surface of the riverstream, carelessly ambles in the charge of ripping tides. the rough of the overgrowth is a welcome seclusion, there in the sideline, as the journeyers prepare themselves for the ensuing reach upriver. 
they sit in steeping hush; the man contends the tension, caressing tones rarely sustained in his melodies. each note lingers in his soul and on his lips before departing to the river breeze, churning in the air, and setting sail. a warmth exhaling from the embers lit between them casts a light that prances on their faces, each reflection baring expression, influence, and energy.
beside the girl, at the edge of the extending sodden growth, a silhouette emerges from the expanse of the water. the motion is full of grace and purpose. the lines of darkness materialize afore a twilight empyrean. the figure burgeons as she moves along the vessels edge, the strength of the surrounding green cultivating her features. the girl looks to the wayfarer for some shift in awareness and in a flicker of the flame she can see the flutter of his lids against the rhythm. the woman steps closer and the girl finds herself overwhelmed by a flowing curiosity and a craving for suspension. as the reflection of her skin brushes the complexion of the wayfarer, his eyes clear and he looks to the stranger.
she speaks and her voice moves just as her stride had sauntered, her face is still and her view alone is smiling.
I will join you.
the man looks to the girl, his surveillance rolling from her eyes to her mouth and she nods, taking in the air as it follows the moonlight. she turns to meet his stare as the instrument returns to his lips and she watches his breath as it expels the hidings of his chamber.
submersed in the reflection of the shining moon, the dance of the ripples rages on the jubilant surface of the water. the dark shimmer bounds against the stars and to the beating rhythm of evening sky. the curve of the beam reaches up to meet that light and swings back down to carry the expression to the depths. the river is more comfortable here, as if it can stretch and breathe in the northern light.
the girl lays along the horizon, the line of her back forming to the tension held beneath it. the floating, mooring limb is as steady as her solid earth. mere inches separate the girl from the body of the wayfarer and she hears the shine of each star strung into his melody. strips of tender foliage idle by, caressing the bluish grey resilient amongst the crescent prospect. once again, she feels a calm in the presence of this wayfarer, where she can merely exist and nothing else is required. the language of their thoughts is unspoken but continually present, establishing a comfort and a gratitude seeping into the fibers of these environs.