They had walked mostly in silence for the last while, after he had finished talking about his parents and his youngest sister. He didn’t ask after Chrysanthe’s parents. He knew what had happened to them, and imagined that it was likely still raw and new for her. He hadn’t told her, yet, that he knew. It hadn’t come up in conversation on it’s own, and he didn’t see the point in mentioning it and souring any good time they were having together, or upsetting her.
He was content to let the silence between them stand as they carried on. He led the way through the streets to a patch of forest just past the back edge of Deventry. He stopped when they reached the edge of the woods proper, reaching into his bag and producing a pair of binoculars, which he handed to Chrysanthe before pulling out a second pair as well. They were very well-cared for, simple sets. Not anything too fancy, but with enough magnification to make seeing tiny birds in trees a bit easier. He also took out a small moleskine notebook with a green cover.
“Follow me,” he said with a smile, “I’ll take you to a nest of goldfinches I found last week.”
He led the way into the trees. There were several clear trails through them, some smaller than others, and Baz seemed confident in where he was going. He frequented these woods often enough to know them like the back of his hand, and easily led the way through the trees. It was a few minutes before he stopped. He gestured for Chrysanthe to be quiet for a moment, then turned to her.
“I hear them,” he said, and was quiet again. Among the other noises of the forest was a burbling little bird song, and he grinned. “There, you hear that? See if you can spot them. You’re looking for a little brown, black, and white bird with a red face and gold flashes on its wings.”