Not even Faerie wine could cause her steps to become unsteady?light and graceful as they always were?as she tread noiselessly down the empty road in the early morning night. The moon had long set, the sun yet to rise, and all the world was cast in shadow and darkness, with the very eastern sky not yet touched by the imminent rays of dawn. Jewell stood as the sole light on the western roadway, carving out her own haven from the darkness with her own brilliance. Gone were the vestiges of humanity, shed as unwanted clothing. Instead, bared skin shined with more than its usual luster, glowing silver in the night; even her ocean colored locks had their own radiance, shimmering. Any that passed her shied away; it was not unusual for the Fair Folk to be out on such a night as Beltane, but few dared to approach them less they suffer their wrath and anger. Even a Faerie in a good mood was one to be wary of.

Jewell welcomed the lack of company and the reluctance of the few creatures?man and beast?she happened upon to even greet her. There were no tear stains to hide from others although she had shed many tears alone, wandering far and long in the woods after departing the Beltane festivities abruptly, her mind fuzzy with wine, doubts, and desires. Pale skin and a trouble expression were the remnants of the night, and she had no wish for prying eyes and friendly inquisition.

Although absorbed in melancholic musings, she could not fail to miss the false morning star in the air near her house. Her face transformed from despondent to amazed wonderment as she approached her villa. Keen Faerie eyes?perhaps not as discerning as those of an Elven Ranger but still sharp enough?ascertained what it was flying, circling in curiosity, above her home. ?Phoenix.? It was the first word to pass her lips in hours since the pathetic, ?Merry Beltane, Stephen,? and it came out as a whisper, full of childlike wonder. She had never before seen one so close despite her many years spent in RhyDin and others spent in the Lands. The sight was absolutely enchanting.

Puzzling over this new development to her evening/morning and what it could mean, she moved up the path; certainly the enigma provided a brief and welcomed reprieve from more depressing, self-condemning thoughts, even if it was confusing. She found the answer, though, in the form of the letter upon her doorstep, brow furrowing at the unfamiliar scrawl?though her name was clearly legible?on the envelope. ?This better not hold a severed penis,? was an errant thought drifting through her brain, in homage to the ?gift? she had received many months ago, as she seized the envelope from its landing place.

Fortunately, the letter contained no such thing. Rather, a pleasant invitation welcomed her home. It was a needed reminder of the more agreeable part of her Beltane evening, almost forgotten in the crushing end. The letter brought a small smile, curving at her lips and quickly strengthening, as the faint scent of dogwood blossoms teased her nose. She lifted the paper up closer, inhaling once more with eyes briefly closing. She found herself wondering if that was what Sinjin smelled like all the time. ?I guess I will find out,? she remarked quietly to the night.

The postscript reminded her of the courier who had delivered such a promising invitation. She looked skywards, spotting the phoenix easily, even as the shadows and the night waned, as he explored the woods to the north of her grounds. Silent thanks were offered up to him before she stepped inside. Late morning would see her reply.