The Sunspire Oh, should my people fall,

When the second voice faltered and fell silent, a third would rise into the air- a song of mirth sung out over the treetops toward the spire where he hoped it would fall on patient ears. He had recognized the voice- the first one, that is- and hardly believing his luck, had begun to tread in that direction, only to find that there was another searching for the fiery fae. But no response had come, as he marched on, trying to track down any trace of her scent that he might be able to follow, should she deny him an audience. Once the second voice had fallen silent, only then did he speak up- a taunting, but endearing song, calling out for his long-lost friend, hoping that she might elect, in turn, to answer him back.