Totoka River and stood awhile in thought

Blossom’s laugh was a gentle chime of a bell, as she swirled a circle beneath Snowdrop’s wings. The bird dipped low beneath her muzzle, swinging high again and hovering there for a time.

Then, Snowdrop was gone, winging across the sky.

Snowy? But the bird did not respond, tittering high and almost frantic as he swept across the lands beside the river. She stopped in place, watching as the wheeling shrike pulled her attention out of dancing to-.

To-!

A shape. With soft features, gilded eyes (one color so similar to her own). A face she hadn’t seen for so many months but had never quite forgotten.

Was it-?

Papa?

Of all the things the dancing girl wanted to say to him, they evaporated on her tongue like smoke. She could only stare in shocked silence as Snowdrop swung back around to perch on her head, cheeping up a storm.