At the stream, Terin sits. The sun leans onto the birch trees, resting upon them its full, late-afternoon weight. Terin watches the fish, purple and pale green, splashing in the shallow water. The green are small like birch leaves, but the purple are nearly three feet long and dappled with iridescence. Sun-Ribbons, Terin thinks.. She reaches to her patched and wrinkled leather satchel, pulls out her notebook and scrawls down the name and a quick rendering. Cataloguing all the creatures in this wood has been fulfilling, yes, but what really interests Terin is what sort of life hides in the hidden places; the things that don’t want to be found. That is where the real learning lies.