Firefly Glen tânsittut ≊

When the doe came, she was dancing.

Braided into her pelage was dried flowers, lilacs and the long stems of cattails tangled in the fur of her legs, falling behind her like a swallow. In that moment, she was not doe, she was bird, and she came with laughter on her breath and song ready upon her tongue.

The spirits had prepared her for this. For tonight, she assured, her husband would come to her, be it salt shore man, seal hunter, raven talker, sister seeker, any and all she could meet tonight she would. And, at the end of it, she would find someone.

The doe assured herself of this as she came, long strided trot carrying her fast into the glen. The rabbit pelt she had been given spun around her shoulders, dark as midnight. The eyes like river stones twinkled on her sharp facial features.

Tonight, Vairë felt wild. And it showed in every step she took, dancing on light feet.