Copper child and her opaque shadow drift upon a late winter's breeze, intangible as the distant memories upon which they are based. Yes, intangible: she is nothing but an amalgamation of her family's ghosts, an echo of the past, a remnant of a world forgotten by all but she. A blissful sky and merciful sun smile upon the pair as they wander, and the girl feels a quiet peace, something rarely found within her tumultuous breast. Her pace is steady, her heartbeat soft, a pattering of pulses beneath her crimson skin. Her brother flits around her, birdlike, small body darting and weaving through the brush; he hunts for meaning while she watches and smiles, black eyes vibrant as the white clouds above.

She pauses as they reach the crest of the world, inhaling that sweet scent of thawing frost and new-born life, crisp mountain air brought on wind off the sea. Iron hooves drift across a lake of green, yet scarcely an imprint is left upon the grass; she imagines she is flying, and in a way she may be. The girl is a dancer in other people's lives, a pretty shadow in a tactile play, a bright point of light forgotten once it dims, leaving little but an afterimage so quick to fade.

And yet, for once, she is content.

She finds herself where she always finds herself, at the northern edge of the plateau. The air is cold and startlingly brisk, and a stiff gust buffets her as her neck extends, tugging needily at silver braids, stinging the soft warmth of her nostrils and ears. Beneath the sun the girl glows, embers spilling from her mouth and dancing merrily around her head, skipping and twirling along the length of her back. Perhaps this has been her purpose all along: to be a source of light when needed, flickering through others' lives, long enough to warm their skin yet brief, so not to leave a scar. Perhaps she is too delicate to touch the world, for every time she tries it strikes her back, leaving welts on her wounded heart.

Natraj comes to rest beside her, small body pressed against her bare left fore. He still wishes to hold the world, to explore its nooks and crannies, and he tells her this in thoughts and sounds, and his hope makes her smile. The girl closes her eyes - maybe - and turns her attention back to the sea, to the sheer drop mere seconds away from her hooves. What would it be like, she wonders, to fly?

Her body shifts, and the girl sighs. One step, and she could know. A second of flight, and then-

She is interrupted.

"Sed interdum rutrum urna, sed pellentesque sapien tempor in."