Rosy vestiges of summer cast a pale conviction along the edges of the flowing lake, the teetering brim of the frothing springs – the world was their constant sanctum, pulsing and pervading earth with its sumptuous hymns. She sprung from the edges of blossoms and blooms, larkspur croons and sunflower murmurs, moonlight fluidity, quick, swift and without direction, enjoying the scintillating moments repose proffered. With listless proposals, with languid, lithe conjectures, she bestowed the same kindness upon the sovereign; with song, with dance, enriching, delighting, in nymph movements, in sylph motions. A lilting step, a harmonic waltz, a drifting, dazzling display of refinement and tunes, harpsichord leisure dappled in warm hazes, breathed in amongst the light, the tranquility, the serenity of cool breeze and soft creeds. Crowns of petals nestled amongst her mind, sketched and outlined the incandescent, everlasting glow of her honeysuckle-spun varnish, lacquers of delight, of merriment, of ebullience melted, melded, molded, into the finesse of her creation. As Lena moved, swindled, wandered, Romani properties christening, anointing, charismatic sways and genuine, untroubled composure (for once, a harsh wind didn’t utter broken, bracken, altered things clawing at their doorstep), a sound swung over the horizon, beckoning threads, songs of the returned. She, and matching beast gathered at her heels, ceased movement and immersed into speculation, conducting a trapping moment to inveigle the scent carried along the breeze – recognizable, but scarce amongst the summits and valleys. Had the heralded figure lost their way, drifted amongst ruins and runes before returning to the precipices, the wildlife, the wily apertures and rising summits? Imogen gave one hearty chirp, curiosity compounded both in too many prying gestures and inquisitive ruminations, and the Time Mender, wielder of instants, junctures, and moments, followed after the flowing white tails, enticed and tempted by the call of another.

Upon their approach, recognition dawned an easier light and ceremonious pinnacle. The spots, aligned, sketched, and traced over the femme were not that of a stranger; nor was she wilted, withered or decayed. Some unsung relief bolstered through her veins, through her chest, through her heart (this was not a occasion where she would have to sweep and serenade for the life of another, no threat pressed, no chasm opened up wide). A smile wove through her lips, wide, candid, natural grins and plumed rhapsodies, centered and given to the child of snow and ice, recurring and enacting upon the timeless art of restoration. “Welcome home!” Imogen noted the companion plunging nearby, horned, beautiful, exotic, and twittered several salutation, waved the ivory emblems of her heritage with friendly merriment. The edges of Lena’s finery longed to question, to query, of the journeys the maiden had made, of the images she’d seen, of the long strokes made before coming back into birthrights, but none were uttered. Instead, only the length of her elation gathered and grew, a surrounding bulb of contentment.