Deepwood Weald [M] To the sound of the bird that mourns

His words lifted like an answered prayer, and she danced to the soft melody of his voice, twirling, featherlight. She felt his breath brush against her and once she had spun herself she bounded drunkenly toward him, gigging and foolish. 

Her dizziness brought her some glee; she tilted her head back as she stumbled gently against his side, laughing now simply because it had become contagious; her heart had never known such boundless glee! 

Once the world stopped spinning she turned her gaze to him, as it steadied, so that she could see him in focus once more. She beamed; such a man she had found for herself!