Jade Fern Grove I was wild, chasing stones.

She is so tired, but it makes the game easier. The story is simple enough to keep straight in her mind, and Ibis is honestly too tired to be worried about her behavior at this point; while she is usually very easy to embarrass, she's almost dopey in this moment, finding it easier and easier to talk to this rogue male—utterly trusting, as if the boy was a figment of her imagination. He is charming, from his calming voice to the faint glow of his pale coat; her belly is aflutter and Ibis doesn't mind at all.

Julien, she murmurs to herself, trying to remember this fact for when morning comes. Maybe by then he'll have faded away like mist, clinging only to the tips of the grass as glittering frost. Maybe he's only here because she's so sad and alone, and needy, but she doesn't want to think like that—doesn't want to consider she could be befriending a ghost, gone when the sun appears again. Another loss to add to the pile.

What would you like to do until the moon comes back for you? The boy poetically blurs Ibis' sense of reality, and she smiles, wondering to herself if he notices the rhyme. Her smile lingers as she drifts closer, brushing the cold tip of her nose against his cheek to test if he was really made of moonlight, and her smile grows a little when his flesh slightly gives way. Tell me about yourself, Sir Julien. Where do you come from? Ibis feels warmth in her cheeks, and settles to her haunches beside the boy as if a spell has been cast over her—or maybe she's so tired she's inebriated by his company.