Golden Glade We're only hearts and bones and blood

The little dancer twirled through the glade, moving to a song only she could hear. If there was anyone around to break her solitude, Foxglove was unaware of it. She was lost in her own world.

Spring was her favorite time of year, though her family largely seemed to favor the bright warmth of high summer. There was just something about it; the way the air still held a chill to it, but fresh and green now with new growth; the way the forests and meadows sang with busy life. The world always awoke in high spirits, much like Foxglove herself. Maybe that was why she liked it so much.

So she danced to the song of spring, as carefree and featherlight as her mother before her.

A gold-coated stranger stands ahead. His tail lifts as he watches them twirl and prance, and for a moment he wishes to join them. The display is so joyous, it's difficult to resist.

She holds his still expression as he observes. Unable to join, but perfectly able to watch.

Slowly, she became aware that she was being watched. A boy; a stranger. Or... perhaps not a stranger? There was something familiar in his giltfire eyes, something in the elegance with which he held himself, that spoke to her of home. Maybe it was only the lingering memory of a mother who loved her more than anything in the world.

Still, Foxglove was immediately captured by his eyes. In the midst of her dance she stilled, one paw still lifted from the ground as if she meant to spring back into movement at any moment. Her ears twitched. Hello, Fox managed to call out after a moment, a little breathless.