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The nymph took note, listened, and captured the enticing traversing of strangers, pondered over their tales, their triumphs, their tribulations and trials. If she was a master storyteller, she’d learn to weave their words and phrases into magnificent works of art, cast them into stone and marble, thread them through petals and leaves, swinging, winding lanes of primrose and lavender, compose songs and lyrics to anoint all the precious benedictions. At one time, she might have followed the winds instead of her nomadic farces, where the coursing of her stream, of her rivulet, ended at hollowed lanes and doubled-back over old mysteries, enigmas and horrors, scorching, flailing, smoldering bits of yesteryear resurfaced. She remembered breathing in the serene breeze, dancing in the sun’s rays, bursting into the runes of the Threshold, meeting knights and goddesses and divine, virtuous plumes, before the earth churned and turned, made her alter, change, into the composed whimsy of some reserved creature. But her voice echoed over the repose, over the atmosphere, over the nefarious armaments haunting her memories, chiming in carillon tones, a bell and a hymn. “It sounds delightful, Lebi.” Lena, and Imogen alike, enjoyed the crooning narrator, with her steps escalating amongst the brook, adding details, characters, and enlightenment to an epic of Gypsy affairs. Only after the Foothills stag had extended his invitation did the sylph become rendered back into the form of recruiting, too elated and diverted by the fanciful foibles of another. Imogen chirped, perhaps content that her companion had finally managed to distract herself from the latest, scarring events, and Lena followed with her own lush convictions, warm, tender sentiments pulsing, pervading, in a singsong conjecture, composition and opus. “It would be my pleasure to offer you a home within the Aurora Basin. We offer many different resources and shelter, including beautiful peaks, valleys, caves and a lake that never freezes.” A smile followed, bright, jubilant, radiant, the aching, yearning, enchanting desire to help restore and rejuvenate her icy land culminating and combining into an earnest, silent plea for others to follow her, to consider the might, the beauty, of a glacial empire, of a frosty kingdom.
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