Whitebark Stream even salt looks like sugar

Indeed she was still - like a china doll, perched on a wooden shelf. Almost so still that she appeared as ghostly as the shadows that hung behind trees in the dark of the night, but her chest rose and fell steadily with gentle exhales of air; she watched him, and he watched her. 

Her eyes danced warily in the moonlight, glistening like the rippling surface of ocean water, glittering like the stars coating the canopy above. He spoke with mild hesitance, but she paid it no mind, for perhaps he was uncertain. The eruna would not blame him for such a thing, could not. She knew all too well how dangerous others could be, how unfamiliar their actions or words could feel, and she knew what could happen if you did not pay enough attention. The corners of her lips twitched slightly at his query, as though on the fringes of tipping into a warm smile - she loved it when others picked up on her mother's tongue, whether they could understand it or not. It made her think of soft memories, where everything seemed right again. "Night traveller, traveller of the night. Those who walk with the moon to guide them. It is Spanish, my mother taught me as a pup."

If only she could see the world with the eyes of a child again.