"I once ran away from the social worker who was on my case and found this place," he told her, heading towards the door. "I visit it every time I come here."
Under the bridge, vibrant green moss grew along the rocks, with delicate lilies growing from the water. Old drawings were on the underside of the stone bridge, looking oddly familiar to Tez. The water trickled quietly, and everything was peaceful.
"Over the years," he said, craning his head back to look at them before gesturing to a rough scrawl on the walls. It looked to be like a frog, and it was marked with a childlike signature. "Rowan Ferrow Syvel. 02/72"
