Hushed Willows I Will Not Ask You Where You Came From

Dante's only response to the wisp's inquiry was a bubbling laugh, carried by the wind backwards towards the young woman in quick pursuit of him. As it often did, his heart guided the boy to exactly where it should've, a familiar willow coming into view as the mouse slowed his pace. The tree was anassuming, any to any other would merely seem an unrearkable willow in a forest of many. To Dante, though, the drooping tree was a reminder of quiet nights of curiosity and adoration, of the first time he'd heard his love's song, and the first time he'd held her as she cried. It was something to be cherished and shared, as he was here to do now. 

Tossing a fond look over his shoulder at Lumiya, Dante passed under the boughs of the tree, their gentle leaves dragging at the fur on his spine and grounding him in reality a bit more. His heart rabbitted hard in his chest, but the young man found that when he observed the feling closely it wasn't fear but rather... anticipation, excitement. Assuming the young woman had followed him under the shade of the willow, the young man drew a great breath then, certain of his purpose and willing to accept the consequences of his words. Lumiya, Dante began, swiveling slowly to face where he thought the woman must be, eyes shut stubbornly and the barest notion of a smile touching his lips , I think you might have stolen my heart.