Noctisardor Bypass I'm sick and tired of love songs

Wylla’s mother also had a theory about rainbows. Druid turned her head a little so she could shift her attention between the lights and her pack mate as she spoke of attributing particular colors to certain seasons. The pup listened raptly, even though she had no real frame of reference for most of these seasons Wylla spoke of.

Druid didn’t really understand what words like “blaze” and “fire” meant literally, though she’d heard them in the context of the summer heat. It intrigued her that Wylla (or Wylla’s mother, rather) paired that sentiment with this mysterious fall. She wondered if she would like it even less than summer. Was it truly possible for the weather to get any hotter?

“And shades of blue for winter when the land grows silent and dark…” Now these words captured Druid’s interest. She loved quiet, and the night. Winter sounded soothing, especially in comparison to what she knew of summer and what Wylla had just told her about fall. She wondered when she would get to experience it.

She had no way of answering Wylla’s question, though this time Druid didn’t fumble. I don’t know, she admitted, adding sagely, maybe. If it’s magic. She paused then wondered, Will you tell me more about winter? She said the word almost reverently, warming ironically quickly to the idea of this dark, quiet turn of the seasons.