Sun Mote Copse The book is on the table.

Wraen had dreamt about falling in love and, when she woke, she kept her eyes closed so that the pleasant, warm and happy feeling would not relent to the reality she lived in. But dreamland though inspiring and encouraging is not known for being consistent and solid. It was still cold and dreary February outside, the bouts of warm sunlight still too sparse and rare for her to believe that it was not long before everything would be lush and green again. 

The scent of Niamh's heat had caused unrest in Wraen as well, for a moment there she had been drunk enough with the delicious particles that she believed to be in season as well. Yet the moment she put distance between herself and the Sun Mote Copse, she realized that, while spring reigned in the golden girl's veins, her body was as silent and bitter cold as barren landscape in winter. There would never be green shoots breaking through the thick blanket of frost and snow, there would never be a colourful garden, filled with blooming flowers and trees. 

Being a dead end of an otherwise branched family tree was not a nice thought to dwell on, not when you have felt so much in love just minutes earlier. So Wraen left both dreams and hard truths behind her and to a walk through the forest. There ahead of her she spotted Towhee, who too was alone. She wanted to call out to her first, but reminded that it would be no use, therefore she chose a route to come as near as to be seen and then spoke: "Hey! How are you doing?"