Lost Creek Hollow all that may seem is but a dream within a dream

@Grayday

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Had the scorching Mother Sun been high in the sky, bearing down upon the white lady in skattered patches along the dark hollow's floor, her pace might have been slowed to an insufferable crawl. Her steps may not have been as light, and her head might have been bowed in submission, giving in to Her overbearing rays (however sparse) and accepting their scalding burn until shelter could be found.

T'was not Mother Sun that reigned in the sky, though; it was Sister Moon! And the benevolent Sister did not pester Nimue with scorching rays, but beautiful moonbeams that bled silver through the trees and lit up every strand of her stark white pelt like a loving embrace. For this, Nimue did not crawl, but she danced- her pace was a steady - if not gayly quickened - trot, her head held high and pink tongue lolling past her equally pink lips, a look of pure delight upon her face. She moved through the dark, night striken hollow like a ghostly spectre, her paws flying gracefully over every pebble, and a jolly tune hummed in her throat.

The world passed by her in dark blurs, it was true, but Sister Moon was generous enough to elluminate the nearby creeks with her beams, giving an illustrous glow to the steady sound of babbling brook, which the spectre easily followed. She'd traveled very far the other night, seen many things under the watchful gaze of her Sister, and once Mother rose to lay her to bed, she'd found herself horribly thirsty. The thirst had had to wait for moonrise, so of course, by now, Nimue's tongue was yearning to drink the pristine water's ahead. She finally deemed herself close enough, could hear the creek splashing before her, so she slowed her trot to a complete halt and bowed her head to drink, still loudly humming her song as she did so.
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