The little dancer twirled through the glade, moving to a song only she could hear. If there was anyone around to break her solitude, Foxglove was unaware of it. She was lost in her own world.
Spring was her favorite time of year, though her family largely seemed to favor the bright warmth of high summer. There was just something about it; the way the air still held a chill to it, but fresh and green now with new growth; the way the forests and meadows sang with busy life. The world always awoke in high spirits, much like Foxglove herself. Maybe that was why she liked it so much.
So she danced to the song of spring, as carefree and featherlight as her mother before her.
Spring was her favorite time of year, though her family largely seemed to favor the bright warmth of high summer. There was just something about it; the way the air still held a chill to it, but fresh and green now with new growth; the way the forests and meadows sang with busy life. The world always awoke in high spirits, much like Foxglove herself. Maybe that was why she liked it so much.
So she danced to the song of spring, as carefree and featherlight as her mother before her.
The world don't speak for us —
they lack the confidence
they lack the confidence
April 01, 2025, 12:29 PM
A gold-coated stranger stands ahead. His tail lifts as he watches them twirl and prance, and for a moment he wishes to join them. The display is so joyous, it's difficult to resist.
She holds his still expression as he observes. Unable to join, but perfectly able to watch.
She holds his still expression as he observes. Unable to join, but perfectly able to watch.
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