Someday, treasure the moments you're given/
Feel how they flow/
For the magic lives in the moments you're living/
See how they go/
Magic, magic be with you each morning/
Each evening, too/
For the magic, magic is in every moment/
Even in you.

Amthy was still, painfully still; poised like a cat waiting to pounce. Her body vibrated with a distinct need to move. She wanted to flutter and flit, glide and dip. She fought that need with an exercise of will. Upon winter-pale skin, rainbow iridescence swirled. The layer of latent pixie dust jumped and sparked. Golden motes of magic skipped across her exposed skin to settle anew or shed with adventurous exuberance onto the ground.

Her time was coming.

She could feel the building momentum of magic in the air and in the ground beneath her. Her Wind Sibs cried with the knowledge. They wailed their longing and pulled on the curtains of Ardane?s great room. They carried on their backs their sorrow, and a dusting of snow flurries. Who would herald the spring? It was the same question every turn since she gained her shell.

Her Wind Sibs weren?t the only ones competing for her attention. If she concentrated, she was aware a tickle of power in her veins. Amthy knew that far from town, deep within the mountains, the sap had begun to move within an aged oak tree. Hibernation would soon end. Life would start again. The world would wake.

Click. Clack. Boot heels on hard wood. Amthy?s muscles bunched and she recalled herself. The foot falls came closer and then paused. She shifted minutely on her perch. Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth. She didn?t even dare to breathe through her nose. A minute?long and tedious?ticked away and the foot falls did not resume.

Nor had she heard them retreat.

Unblinking tsavorite-green eyes shifted. Her confusion flowed easily into curiosity. She threw possibilities around in her head. It was an oddity and it needed to be investigated, but to do so would expose herself. Lightly, she gnawed on the inside of her lower lip. The air around her warmed with the scent of ginger. The not-knowing was worse than staying still. It went completely contrary to her nature.

Amthy swung her head down. The length of her gradient green hair fell forward to dangle in the space between her perch and the floor. She tried to do it covertly, but there just wasn?t any camouflaging her presence at that point.

?Boo!? Cayt cried.

?Aiiie!? Amthy yelped and half fell from the ledge she was perched upon. She scrambled to regain her composure. Cayt laughed at her predicament and grabbed her foot. The nymph lashed about as her sister tickled her. ??m gonna fall!? She squeaked and laughed at the same time.

?It?s not that far,? Cayt returned as she continued to tickle her.

?It?ll still hurt!? Amthy cried back as she yanked her foot back?mostly because Cayt allowed her to.

?Silly,? Cayt smirked. ?It?s what you get for trying to surprise me. How long did it take you to get up there anyway?? She tipped back her head and tried to gauge the distance between the floor, the nearest piece of furniture, and the narrow ledge Amthy had squeezed herself onto. ?I don?t think people were ever intended to be up there.? Emerald eyes narrowed. ?Can you get down??

Amthy puffed out her cheeks. ?I dunno,? she answered.

?I?m going to time you and see how long it takes you to get down.?

?You aren?t going to help me??

?Starting now.? Cayt pointed a finger at Amthy as she made note of the time on the mantel.

Amthy looked side to side and shifted her weight. Tentatively, she extended one leg off the ledge and looked for a hand hold. Unsatisfied, she retracted and coiled back on the ledge. She tried again, extending herself at a different angle. Amthy tried to recall the nooks and crannies she had used to get up there, but their locations eluded her for the moment.

?Been three minutes,? Cayt informed her as she crossed her arms over her chest. ?Should I get my magazine??

Amthy razzed her tongue at Cayt. ?No.?

?Hey, since you?re here, Hedwig wanted to know what kind of cake you wanted for your birthday.?

Green eyes focused on the silvery-blonde. Greed sparkled in the depth of her gaze and flowed across her features. ?Chantilly cream.? She hooked her fingers over a piece of molding and slowly eased one foot down, pressing her toes against the wall.

?If you leave foot prints, you?re cleaning them,? Cayt said as she watched Amthy?s snail-like progress. ?What kind of fruit??

?Berries an? banana,? Amthy chirped in excitement as she started to lower herself down. Her other leg joined the first and she started to make promising progress back to the floor. That was before she hit a snag, and was caught somewhere between with her arms halfway extended.

?You doing okay there??

?No,? Amthy squawked. ??m stuck.?
Cayt laughed and sighed as she walked down under her heart sister. ?Jump, I?ll catch you.? It wasn?t like Amthy had far to go. Luckily, the nymph was light.

Amthy squeezed her eyes closed and then peered at Cayt and closed them again. ?Promise to get me a nice present tomorrow??

?Yes,? Cayt grinned. ?I promise. Though I really don?t know what birthday presents have to do with it.?

Amthy laughed and launched herself awkwardly at Cayt. Her trust was there, and it ran along the link between them. She exhaled with an ?omph? when she fell into Cayt?s arms. It wasn?t a graceful moment, but it was one without broken bones or bruises?at least to Amthy. ?It doesn?.? She admitted.

?Ow! That was my eye,? Cayt barked as Amthy?s limbs went every which place. She closed her now watering eye and helped Amthy to her feet. ?Were you even stuck to begin with?? Cayt rubbed her palm to her face

?Ahh,? Amthy drawled out noncommittally. ??s your eye okay?? She bounced on tiptoes. ??m gonna get you some ice.?

?Amthy you wait just a minute!? Cayt called but the nymph was already running for the perceived safety of the kitchen.

((lyrics: Magic Be With You from Fraggle Rock))

It was, in Amthy?s opinion, a beautiful day. Golden sunbeams snuck between billowy puffs of misty cloud-stuff and stole toward the ground to warm Amthy?s exposed back. The rainbow sheen of once dormant pixie dust caught the filtered light beneath the still stark forest canopy, and shimmered more vibrantly for its presence. The magic-borne stuff skittered along in random patterns over her skin and shed onto the mud the green-haired nymph was wallowing in.

Thick and cool, it hugged her half naked, prostrate body and mini frilled pettipants. The mud was a perfect foil for the warmth of the day. Her dress?a fabulous affair in periwinkle trimmed in shocking pink velvet ribbons and lace?had been shed long before. It hung from a tree, a sharp splash of color against the drab backdrop of late winter. Periwinkle showed the progression of her interest. Dirty finger smears slashed across the skirt and a few clumps clung to the hem. When Amthy?d come across the deep puddles in the woods, she hadn?t been able to resist.
She pushed up from her belly and backward onto her knees. The mud released her with a soft suck of sound. Her head tipped from one side to the other and back again. She dug her fingers back into the mire and patted a new handful of mud onto the rough structure she was creating. In her mind?s eye she could imagine a newlywed toad couple making their home inside with just enough room for some littles one day; A nice starter home.

It felt good to play in the dirt. A thick coat of icy snow had kept her from it. Amthy spent much of her time focusing on what she used to be. She didn?t often spend much time delighting in what she was. She sank her fingers back into the damp soil. It pushed up beneath her nails, but she expanded her awareness passed the sensation. She searched for the promise of green, growing things inside; waking seeds and sprouts that pushed from their casings in search of the sun. Finding one, in a fit of impish curiosity, she pushed a tendril of power toward it. She held one thought inside her airy head?grow.

Magic spilled from her without finesse. Dark green brows furrowed as she tried to focus the out pour into something small and manageable. Amthy had never been a diligent student. Her attention span did not allow for it. Silvanous? lessons were only distant snippets and half-formed ideas. They were the stuff of dreams. She was, actually, more likely to hold a dream in her hand than clearly recall anything her former bond had taught her. Her lashes kissed upon her cheeks as she released the energy completely.

Tentatively, she opened one eye and then the other. She had mixed feelings on the results. A long misshapen, ragged patch of unruly green added more life to the wood, but was not what she had hoped to achieve. Her lower lip rolled outward as she slid off her mud sticky heels to sit on her voile-covered rump. Amthy stretched her legs in front of her in a ?v? around the mud-house. Her thoughts turned back to Silvanous, and the invitation he had extended to her. She chewed pensively on the inside of her lip. Would it hurt to find out what he wanted? Even if she didn?t see him, maybe Babylonica could give her a lesson or two. That would be a good thing, wouldn?t it?

Suddenly, playing in the dirt wasn?t as appealing as it had been. Amthy looked up into the cloudy sky and sighed. The air around her was scented cinnamon from her indecision. She no longer felt like playing. Maybe, on a different day, when her head was clear she could have fun. Now, she felt the press to move on. A bath, she decided, in the lake. And then she would return to Ardane. Silvanous could wait until another day.

Several Hours Later

Amthy swam in the smothering scent of burnt cinnamon and turned earth. She scrubbed her clammy hands to the sides of her frilled mini pettipants. They rasped against the delicate voile the undergarment was constructed from. Her dresses, a delicate yukata and one of her more standard poofy frocks?along with the precious cargo that nested upon them?had found a temporary home on a weathered stone bench before the Chateau.

She had not been to the residence in sometime, but it was well groomed. She suspected Miles had arranged for the care of the dwelling until she found it in her to return. Her eyes sketched a path over the fa?ade. Pitter-pat, her heart sped unruly within her chest. It beat frantically against her ribs. Every instinct demanded that she flee.

The nymph-y pix had not found it in her to return. Not yet.

For all the wonderful things that had happened on the property, and within the walls, she found the happiness to be overshadowed by tragedy. Her feet refused to move. Her stomach lurched uncomfortably and her mouth watered. I?m gonna be sick, she thought as she pressed her hand to her mouth. She had to leave. Hurriedly, she took one step and then another back. Her feet tangled together. She hit the ground in a mess of limbs and a sprinkling shower of pixie dust.

Tears blurred her vision and she scrambled to stand. She gave the Chateau her back and snatched the dresses from the bench. Vert, the very sleepy hatchling, mewled in the sagging center of the makeshift bed. His anxious cries broke through the panic that had ceased her. ??m sorry,? she breathed, ?there, there,? she crooned soothingly. She trilled a soft note as she shifted the crumpled mass of fabric to the bend of one arm. With one hand free, Amthy pet her fingers lightly over the ridges along the lizard?s back. The creature became her focus. I?m not here for the Chateau, she reminded herself.

That thought wasn?t as comforting as she thought it would be. She hadn?t seen the Grove since her rather unfortunate Incident. She hoped it wouldn?t be weird. Awkward, it seemed, had been the theme of the previous evening. She prayed that didn?t spill over to her reunion. Tsavorite-hued eyes turned toward the wood that bordered the property. Did they know she was there? Could they feel her proximity?

Amthy hugged the dresses, and consequently Vert, closer to her chest.

There was only one way to find out.

Underground passage was not Amthy?s preferred mode of transport. She usually avoided it. It was too confining. The wind element aspect of her detested it. She needed the sky and the clouds. She needed her Wind Sibs. She was only too happy when Babylonica released them close to the edge of the Wood, near the Chateau.

?You didn? need t?do tha?,? Amthy wheezed as she frantically felt up her shoulder, searching for Vert. Her stomach lurched when she did not find him immediately. Somehow, he had gotten away from her. She scooped the translucent green lizard out from his hiding place in her bosom. ?You did scare me,? she clucked to him and he mewled pitifully in return.

?I did not help you before, and for that I am sorry. I was not going to allow history to repeat,? the willow nymph stated. ?Be mindful, Sister.? Babylonica cautioned. ?You are an unbound resource and someone, eventually, will use you like one.?

Amthy watched as Babylonica disappeared. Her sage-tinted body sank easily below the surface, breaking through it like water. A tickle of intoxicating power teased against her heightened awareness. Silvanous, she decided. Even if he didn?t know the details of what had transpired, he knew she wasn?t where she had been. Another wave of magic wound around her, and it meshed easily with Amthy?s. The feeling of his influence was achingly familiar. Proximity made it poignant. She itched to lift her feet and run to him. But she couldn?t ignore Babylonica?s warning. Silvanous might be familiar, but that didn?t make him good.

She caught her lip under her teeth and gnawed anxiously at the inside of her mouth. Her feelings were mixed. Curiosity demanded her return and find out what Silvanous had been planning. Fear and self-preservation cried for the opposite. It felt silly to fear Silvanous, but ?Lonica thought she should. She wondered if Avellana, Beithe, and Tilia shared her sentiment. Something in the Grove, she decided, had changed.

?Vert,? she whispered to the small creature, ?I wish I did knowin? the right thing t?do.?

Unfortunately, the hatchling didn?t have any advice to give her. And even if he did, he couldn?t speak to her. Amthy?s pert nose twitched in a Cayt-like manner. She erred on the side of caution. Bare feet followed the familiar path back to the gardens that circled the Chateau. Silvanous had never, to her knowledge, shown himself that far from the oak. It might have been only a tremulous idea of safety, but it was enough for Amthy. She resolved to return to Ardane, but first she needed to rest.

Bright tsavorite-hued eyes turned toward her former home. The structure loomed over her in silent menace. She chose a spot on the far lawn, away from both the Chateau proper and the Wood. She put Vert on the ground beside her, and Amthy willed herself into a fitful, but much needed, sleep.

She knew it was ambitious to reach Town. Her muscles had begun to ache with fatigue and her eyes burned. Will power and the strength of her magic were the only things that kept her going?magic more than will power. She tried to distract herself by talking to Vert. That was until her ramblings had become nonsensical.

Amthy needed to sleep. She loved to sleep. She spent most of her day asleep. There were two things she craved, and she found them both in one place. The moment she crossed into the Valley stress fled her shoulders and her step eased from a plodding Frankenstein gait to a nimble, fleet-footed bearing. She was far from the Grove?s influence, and she rejoiced in the knowledge.

A thoughtful expression creased her brow and pinched her mouth. She doubted her Feathery?un was home. Someone was asleep somewhere, and that demanded his attention. Hopefully, she would be sleeping soon, too. The thought made her giddy. She found a likely looking tree, but before she could climb it, Vert mewled and reminded the nymph of his presence.

If she climbed the tree, he could fall out of it. If she slept on the ground, she could lose him again. Lifting up the lizard-creature to eye level she tried to catch his gaze with hers. ?Vert,? she said patiently, ??m gonna sleep. Pretty please, dunn go too far away. I might no? find you again.? Amthy explained. She didn?t know if he understood. She was embarrassed to admit it, but she was beyond caring if he did. The nymph was practically a zombie.

Gently, she put the smaller-than-her-palm lizard down on the ground at the base of the tree she had chosen. For the time being, he was on his own. He?d managed just fine against the spider, she reminded herself. ?Uck,? she grunted in memory as she forced quivering arms to carry her weight.

Amthy swung up into the tree and stretched out on a branch. This time sleep wasn?t as hard to find. One moment she was awake and the next she wasn?t. The last thing she remembered thinking about wasn?t Silvanous or the Grove. It was about feathers and how much softer they were than trees. Beds, too. She thought of feathers and beds and the glorious (and varied) combination of the two.

The sight of the iridescence was eerie in the darkness beneath the trees. Given the time of year, it wasn?t unusual. She?d been shedding magic infused dust for several days. It was the potency, the promise, buried within the unfocused, untapped magic that caught her attention. Wind tossed, she sat in the damp dark and enjoyed the unsettling beauty. Her chest tightened and tears caught on her lashes as she felt spring?s influence build. It moved through her, and the ground around her, like the rise and fall of the tides. It was glorious and exhausting. Above her, the canopy of budding branches creaked. Around her, last summer?s dead finery rustled and cracked.

?Vert?? She called into the Wood. Her Wind Sibs caught her voice and swallowed it up completely. She could taste rain on the ephemeral fingers that raked across her mouth. Amthy looked to the sky in time to feel the first scant drops fall against her face.

Completely put out, she rummaged around for the lizard. She crawled over ground that was becoming progressively muddier. As the fall increased, water pooled here and there and dribbled and dripped from this and that. Her hair hung in thick pieces and streamed water that fell into her eyes. As she searched, mud coated the ends like ice cream in a chocolate shell. ?Oooh, fine then,? she declared, ?jus? live here iffin it does make you so happy,? she said half-heartedly to the lizard, who was probably not even listening.

??s a nice place so I dunn blame you none,? she continued through the click-clack of her chattering teeth. Amthy spared a glance around, and tried to remember where she had started. The shimmer of her dust crisscrossed the ground, floated like pond scum, and pitterpat up the sides of trees. Had she searched in only one direction or had she gone in a circle? She couldn?t tell.

A rain-bending gust tickled her sides. Prickly goose flesh followed its path. Her palms squished into the soft, magicked ground. Spring was making her skin itch. As annoyed as she might be, she couldn?t make herself stop looking. The lizard was new to the world. He needed guidance and protection. At least, she thought he did. It?s not as if he?d told her so. Not to mention, it didn?t appear as if the rain was going to lessen any. What if he drowned? Could he drown? She gnawed on her lip as she puzzled over Vert.

Amthy plodded her way on all fours across to a tree that wasn?t all sparkly. ?Ver?aiieepffh!? Amthy gurgled as she landed face first in a puddle. She sputtered and spat. She pulled herself half up and then collapsed again into the mud and rain water. Rolling from her front to her back, she stayed in the muck and laughed. Her irritation was carried away by a chilling breeze. Amthy laughed at the clouds she couldn?t see, and the hatchling that continued to evade her. He was probably somewhere nice and warm. And dry. The sort of place she should be.

Her lips quirked. She knew just where she should be?or at the least where she truly wanted to be. If her Wind Sibs thought the same, they should have just told her so. ?Vert, ?m leavin?! Last chance!? She hooted. She used a tree to pull herself up. The wind and rain fell over her filthy body. ?Suit yourself,? she trilled. A bundle of excitement and nerves, her emotions colored the muggy morning cherry and cinnamon. Amthy spindled away some of the energy around her (for courage) and surrendered herself over to spring.

Back at Ardane

?You were with Morpheus for Goddess knows how long and you couldn?t send a note to say where you were?? Cayt asked from Amthy?s doorway. The blonde-haired shifter stood with her back against the frame, and her arms crossed over her chest.

?A handful or more,? Amthy interjected. Unblinking eyes rolled upward thoughtfully and a fingertip came to rest on her puckered lips. ?You know ?m no? good with numbers,? she tsked.

?Could you try to sound sorry? We were worried.?

??m sorry,? Amthy answered. Cayt tipped her head in acceptance of the apology, but stopped midway as the nymph continued to talk. ?But Neano woulda come an? I didn? fancy havin? him about.? She looked down at her toes as she spoke, and twisted a hank of her olivine hair around her fingers.

?He?s only there to protect you.?

?I didn? need protection,? Amthy responded, her hair slipping from her fingers. Instead she fiddled with the ribbons on her dress, fluffing them. Her sister pointedly cleared her throat and prodded the Fae through their mental rapport. ?I didn? need protectin? jus? then?? She offered up to Cayt instead. She puffed. ?Next time I?ll jus? tell?im, ?dunn worry o?er me ?m gonna jus? see iffin the pulse-o?-mine-heart is home and fancies any company o? the female persuasion?an? by tha? I mean me,? an? give?im a book or sommat. Morpheus has some int?restin?uns. He reads ?em t?me sometimes.?

Cayt laughed. ?You know that?s not what I meant. He?s very discrete.?

When Cayt began to laugh, Amthy joined her. She clapped her hands together and held them palm to palm. ?Can you imagine his face iffin I said such a thing?? She squeaked. ?I wonder wha? colors he would change.?

?I don?t think you can embarrass him, Amthy, if you haven?t managed to do it yet.?

?Should I try? I think I should,? she replied pertly. The scent of cherries sweetened the air and twisted with a hint of lemongrass.

Cayt shook her head and waved her hands. ?No, no, Amthy, don?t. Whatever is running around in that head of yours?and I know exactly what you?re thinking, don?t forget?you should not EVER do.?

?Aw, but it?d be fun,? she pouted.

?It?s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.?

?I like mine eyeballs.? The nymph preened and primped.

?I know you do, Amthy.?

??ve been tol? they?re very pretty.?

?There?s more to life than pretty.?

?No? very much more.?

?Next time, you?ll tell me where you are?? Cayt asked gently.

?Yes, I?ll tell you,? Amthy answered.

?Have you thought any about what you?re going to do about the Woods??

?No,? she replied honestly. Her shoulders dropped and her head angled down toward one shoulder. Nervously, she swished the skirt of her dress. As the silence stretched between the shifter and nymph, the summery fruit scents were eclipsed by dank soil, oakmoss, and a hint of nutmeg. ?I really haven?.?

?We?ll figure something out,? Cayt assured her heart sister.

?I hope so,? Amthy answered sullenly.