Another turn of the clock led them into Birdsong, the bewitching, spellbinding season cast aloft for growth, for renewal, for bounding steps of spring birds and deer, for the wispy, cordial flights of fancy, for the whimsical charades of yesteryear and new beginnings. Where hope sprung, Lena awakened, brightening and prospering from the blissful stretch of sun, by the hardy, jovial breeze, by the rush of weather not tied into torments or hazardous plunges. Alive and anointed, the nymph and her fellow kitsune danced through the edges of winter, amidst its last, remaining vestiges, bound by sunshine, roses, and the consuming bout of laurels, of airy, ethereal sentiments. They were part of the shades of light glittering off the horizon, driven into shade and abyss, murmuring sweet nothings into the haze of luminescent fixtures, crooning, fluttering, flying, wishing and dreaming, until everything was harmony and mellifluousness. On each stride the laureled dreamer harkened for her friends, for her companions, for her fellow menders, a burst of color, a flare of song varnished in the heavenly glow of spring: poetry in motion. They could all be floating elation, driven from their hollowed holes and their vacant lofts, from the woebegone woods and the empty groves, aiming for a crescendo of goodwill and overwhelming depths. She rustled with power, with diligence, with perseverance, a queen of fairies and glee, laughing on each elegant maneuver, giggling on the tender art of their impending conquests. When they drove past the shards of snow and the rise of the sentinels, the pair drifted away from the icy borders, along the stretch of hills and valleys, clambering across pebbles and pathways, struck by the notion, by the carefree exultation, of a proper canvas and an exultant tapestry. Like art, like paintings, they flourished on a virtuous brushstroke, and Lena dove into the ravines, into the grasslands, into the skyward beneficence with tranquil promises and tender serenity; her body flaring, incensed, beyond the lissome collection of hooves against stone – there, beyond the clearing, she strung taffeta and lace, tied potency and satin, and meandered to a relaxed pose, ceasing motion except for the flicker of her ears, for the spark of her eyes.
 
Beyond them lay the Heavenly Fields: a bounty like no other. There, within its nestled fancies and its sanguine spirit, drifted silent gifts and hushed grandeur, pearls of wisdom, musings of the sagacious. Slowly, tenderly, blooming from the ground were a wide range of herbs, of plants, of flora meant to either aid life or hinder it; they’d require both for their empire. At last, she composed a long, lingering sigh, built and fueled on happiness, on regality, on poise and absolution, taking a cool breath and soaking in the scent of so many petals, so many blossoms, so many opportunities waiting for them. Her gaze swept to each of her followers, and on a broad, enveloping grin, she prospered them with their task. “Today, we’ll be gathering herbs! I’m hoping we can take back as many as possible, for our future herb garden, for drying in the caves, and impending visits to other herds.” Radiant, lustrous, ablaze, her heart endowed with gilded treasure and prosperous delights, she sent them away, into the fields to frolic. “Let any of us know if there’s something you’re unsure of, or if you want more information on a plant.” Then she winked, ensued a challenge. “Good luck!”

[Herb gathering thread! Tagged healers and those already interested. I'll be leaving this open to anyone else as well. ^_^ No post order. Keep it moving! ;D]