Honeyed Pasture king forever, ceasing never

She was gratified when he seemed content to soak in the story - if that was even the word for what she'd shared. At his question, she gave an uncharacteristically gentle shake of her head. "You don't know," she told him, "Not until you reach the end."

The night felt oddly peaceful, trotting alongside him. Moorhen found herself wonder if the wind would ever send them tumbling into each other again. "I have," she admitted, her ears flying back at memories of her first trek away from the sea. She'd become someone's thrall, and then someone's wife. Now she let the harsh winds blow and only followed the breezed away from Coelacanth's island. "Maybe one day, I will again," she allowed.