Sun Mote Copse Starchaser

The sun’s last rays disappeared behind the trees until only the faint magenta of alpenglow refracted against the belly of the night’s dark sky. With it, the temperature dropped and their breath became like wisps of smoke.

The cold reminded Njord that winter was a time for courtship. A time for love. And from that romance, children would arrive in the spring.

“Elder!” He jeered, challenged to chase his paramour beneath the waning crescent moon. Season after season, day after day, he diligently tended to the precious bond between them. But now, more than ever, he wanted her.

Yet Njord was a patient man. A proper man.

He was at her heels, running so close that a hair on the tip of her tail could tickle his nose. At any moment he could pounce and catch his wife, but the game was so much sweeter to savor.