The day’s light drew florets from stone. Catering to the whims and fancies of autumn, the nymph and kitsune careened along the mountains, immersed, pervaded, doused in joviality. Flights of the intricate: an angel’s halo, a seraph’s armor, a heavenly smile and divine stride, matched and conveyed, composed and sketched, in their virtuous motions and intrigues. Like a return to the past, stars and butterflies, Lena scoured, searched, and sought the scenes, the surroundings, the harpsichord strings, for pieces and fragments, for remnants and shards, for slivers and bits of ebullience. Could there be a touch, a caress, a finesse of merriment, exuberance, beyond the plaguing boughs of nefarious intrigues, dancing across the sullen frowns or forlorn entropies, or along the grave perils of sinister ruses and snares? A resurgence of wishes, of hopes, of ambitions and purpose burst into her lungs and wound around her veins; Faelene’s reappearance, Deodat’s return, companions flocking in droves back to their wintry kingdom, settling the arduous edges of her stalwart heart. As they embarked upon wintry pathways, whirled across icicle webs, fairy fingertips ghosting and billowing along pinnacles and peaks, they became restless feathers in the wind, pixie, sprite, fey conviction and aspirations, wisps of leaves, ambrosia and honey, saccharine cordiality restless, blooming. A flower molded into the wrong season and atmosphere, striving to exceed the layers and enamel of the despondent, the miserable, the immoral, the corrupt, dove across the depths and fathoms of the summits and trails, the unwavering pathways, the rigid, the diligent. Petalsoft footfalls, dulcet requiems, singsong assurances and fortitudes laced and serenaded their movements, forgotten roses and beatific, affectionate snowdrops. A leap, frenetic and wild, an untamed, ethereal being, coursed through her limber, lithe limbs, over mounds of Siberian prowess, ivory powder settled upon worn routes, a light, airy giggle pulsed in vibrant curls and puffs from her parted jaws. She paused for a few idle moments, tasted the finite runes of their crowns and caps as Imogen followed, chasing down the daydreams, the trances, the reveries and raptures of intoxicating revelry.

Faster and faster, hunting down fantasies, visions, absorbed in abstractions, in dreams and faith, poised in songbird prowess, a hum, a hymn, an aria sprouting from lips and whispering, crooning, murmuring upon the wind’s gentle sketches. Carried on by the streams of her laughter, the chirping of the pale kitsune, they cajoled and conjured, unearthly, fine, substantial things of the land, memoirs and memories of intangible glory and brief hallelujahs, and she would have continued on their rime and frost as a ferocious force of merriment and exultation had she not spotted another being below their path, stretching from his confinement to a nearby cavern. They ceased movement once more, gestured in curiosity and stared in wonder, for they didn’t recognize the creature (was there always someone new, always someone unknown, amongst this grand fortress, like a coiling surprise, ready, eager, waiting?). He certainly wouldn’t have been forgotten – for while his frame seemed tossed in the same hue as hers, sienna, made for the darker shades of forests and copses, camouflage for Stygian days, his markings were an emblazoned force of something else altogether. Her stare was enamored by the pieces of blue scattered across his features, as if touched by the heated intemperance of frost or electricity, beautiful and exotic. A molten bolero of curiosity brimmed in her mind; how did he acquire such alluring etchings, stunning, magnificent brushstrokes? She dared not ponder the queries aloud, and instead, opted to bellow her greetings in mellifluous chords, from above, along the inner columns of wayward passageways, gazing down towards his lean form. “Hello!” A rapid smile spun across her lips, coiled in the candor, in the measure, of her tenderness and generosity, genuine and humble, rhapsody and delight. “A fine day to be out in the sun!” She gathered her breath, and then opted to continue downward, meeting the stag upon level ground for introductions, instead of shouting along the intertwined heavens. Both beings bobbed their craniums in greeting, one stately fox, the other, a ditty, a strain, intricate verses wrapped in mahogany and benevolence. “I’m Lena. Who are you?”