Leafless hardwoods dotted among native pine stretched toward a bleak nearly-Winter sky. Grey and oppressive, the clouds it harbored restrained the warming rays of the late autumn sun. Icy crust ringed the edges of the Lake Serenity, a growing reminder to the occupants of Ardane that soon the year would end and the heavy snows would begin; that the lean time would grip their bellies until the spring hunts resumed.

Ardane, a stately but aging manor, bustled with activity. Cayt directed what remained of her people, unfortunates trapped on the wrong side of a dimensional gate, in the necessary chores to winterize the main house. She was a bright spot of silvery-blonde hair bundled in a thick fur-lined coat in the yard. The rhythmic fall of hammer heads echoed in the otherwise cold silence. Nimble pegasi jockeys scaled ladders, and crawled the roof. Others trimmed back branches and dug up flower bulbs. Occasionally, a howl split through the wilderness; Aurora?s Hishn on the hunt. With luck, the larder would be full before the snow bound them to the house.

And through it all, nested in a second floor room, Amthy slept.

Olivine hair spilled around her face, across the rolling softness of her pillow. In sleep?s repose, the classic lines of her Nymph-y features eased. Her blanket was tucked neatly to her breast and her hands folded on her middle. She was surrounded by swathes of diaphanous material suspended from the rails of her poster bed, and sagging canopy.

It was, in fact, a romantic sight constructed from a similarly inclined mind.

Thud. Thud. Thunk!

A dark green brow twitched.

Scrap. Scrap. Crack!

Amthy?s mouth pinched. The camphorous scent of her annoyance filled the air. With a loud huff, she flipped onto her side and curled beneath her blanket. She pressed her palms against her eyes. Didn?t they know she was trying to sleep? She sat up with a low growl. They knew. That was something she was certain of. Luminous tsavorite-green eyes narrowed in suspicion. Suddenly possessed, Amthy threw back her blanket and scrambled from the plush, warm cushion of her bed.

The floor was cold against her bare feet. She shivered as she pushed up against one of the smaller windows in the room. There, she could just see the spark of blonde hair. Amthy struggled to open the window. Slowly, the painted wood sashing ground against the window housing as she lifted it upward.

?Cayt!? She called out shrilly. Her words left her in a puff of white. Amthy leaned out the window and shook her fist. The worker closest to her quickly looked away. His features clearly showed how he did NOT want to be in the middle of whatever was about to transpire. ?Cayt!? Amthy?s teeth began to chatter. Hunched in on herself, she tried to keep some warmth as she waited for her sister to acknowledge her.

?What?? Cayt eventually hollered back. Amthy?s appearance was no surprise. She?d felt the Nymph along the mental rapport they shared. Cayt lifted a hand to shield her eyes as she walked toward Amthy?s window. She took her time getting there.

?Canno? you d?this later?? Amthy whined. ??m tryin? t?sleep!? She called down to her sister.

?You?re always sleeping,? Cayt grumbled under her breath to herself. ?It?s about time you woke up!? Cayt finally called back.

Amthy?s lips pinched and her shoulders set against a now familiar argument. The problem was that it was an exhausted subject. There was nothing new for either one of them to say. With lack of a satisfactory retort, Amthy ground her teeth and exerted her strength to close the window instead. It seemed to descend at a snail?s pace. She was not particularly strong.

?You can?t sleep forever, Amthy!?

?I can try,? Amthy called beneath the narrowing space of the window before it finally closed. She turned her back to the glass, and rubbed her arms briskly with her hands. ?I can try,? she said once more with confidence to herself as she looked sidelong at her recently vacated bed. She knew she wouldn?t be able to sleep while there was work being done on the manor. Cayt wouldn?t let her. That left her the alternative: find a new place to dream. A light went off in her airy head. She wasn?t so desperate (yet) that she needed to seek the Chateau?s sanctuary, but there was a closer place just within her reach.

The Dragon would have to do.

Shortly Afterward

Long ago, in the distant and hardly remembered past, Caytlin had worked at the Dragon. The silvery-blonde Shifter had the worst shift imaginable?as far as Amthy was concerned. Her sister had worked in the wee hours of morning which had been populated largely by drunks and insomniacs. It had been easier, then, to just sleep upstairs in one of the many rooms. Convenience had given way to habit. Even though she had left the Dragon, the room remained. Another bill in the stack of monthly expenses.

Amthy stood beside the bed and contemplated the box that rested in a hollow in the middle of it. She hadn?t bothered to unpack. Not completely. The latch to her bag was undone and a portion of the content spilled haphazardly across the floor. Her fingers worked the laces of her dress, but her attention wasn?t on the task. Clumsily, her fingers tangled and turned the fastenings of her garment.

What if the box was intended for Cayt?

She shrugged into her pajama top?a playful toss of cupcake illustrations that tumbled over warm flannel. Her mouth twisted to the side as indecision gripped her. Distracted, she pulled on the coordinating pants that completed the pj set. Her hands itched and her fingers twitched. The box beckoned her like a lover sprawled on the sheets. There was a note with the box, but she couldn?t read it.

Abruptly, she clapped her hands to rein in her mounting desire. Her mouth turned dry. Deftly, she wet her lips with a swipe of her tongue. The once stale air of the room transformed with a mesh of olfactory delight. Cinnamon and ginger danced with the notes of indecisive oakmoss and the adventurous essence of lemongrass. Olivine hair was pulled up into a messy, lopsided knot to keep her hands busy and she sped to the far side of the room. She paced like a caged animal, one hand braced against the swell of her hip. The other tangled in a length of green that had escaped capture. Tsavorite-green eyes strayed back to the box against her will.

But what if the box was meant for her?

It was a possibility, and as far as Amthy was concerned; a greater probability. She pulled on the section of hair she held, and freed her hand. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. Amthy had to know. She had to know that moment. There would be no satisfaction for her until she opened the box. With strides that belied the length of her legs, she returned to the bedside. Her hands shook as she dug into the box. Paper was cruelly rent. The box was swiftly dealt with. There was a sting in her hand?likely some sort of paper cut, and like a love-bite it would serve as a reminder of her interlude with the package.

The moment the box was open, her breath left her body. The world around her was still. A twinkling wink of time suspended as the clock forgot, along with Amthy, to move. A rush of excitement was heralded by the sweet scent of joyful wildflowers tainted with cherries. Amthy couldn?t trust her eyes. She reached out to touch the sparkle. She hissed a breath at the electric feeling of them beneath her hand.

?Aiee!? She squealed zestfully as she wrenched the heavy curtain out of the box and part-wrapped and part-draped the crystals around her. Her heart pound in her chest and her body warmed with elation.

It was for her. A perfect gift. For her.

Another Time
The sparse room Cayt kept at the Red Dragon Inn had transformed under Amthy?s care into a wonderland of billowy pale lavender silk, cream-colored tulle, potted hot house flowers, and shimmering crystals. Magic pulsed within it?s walls and sent glowing motes that caught in the facets of the purloined curtain. The stones glowed and offered the odd fractured rainbow across the ceiling, fabric, and the floor. As far as Amthy was concerned, the metamorphosis was complete. There wasn?t another thing she could possibly add.

Absentmindedly, she brushed her fingertips across the strands of her curtain. The melodious tink as they struck together was pleasant, but did not alleviate the cloud that hung over her mood. Forlorn, she dropped the back of her arm over her brow and obscured her unblinking eyes. Amthy sighed as the air become delicately scented with lonely anise over sleepy lavender and sullen rain.

She reached across the largely empty bed, and for the hundredth time that day alone; Amthy palmed the small vial she had deposited there. Amthy held it high above her face and watched it with one eye. The content sparkled invitingly behind the thin label wrapped around it. It had been a Yuletide gift. A precious and mysterious one. It was supposed to help her dream?sweetly at that. But there was one problem.

Amthy had no idea how to use it.

She shook the pinched vial between her pointer and thumb. Did she eat it? Drink it? Maybe the proper way to use it was to sprinkle some over her eyes? Or perhaps she needed to inhale it. It all sounded like it might work, but she didn?t know the right way to make it work. The glittery mixture was too precious to waste. Plus, she didn?t want to accidentally harm herself, either.

Amthy covered a yawn with her fingers and dropped the vial back onto the bed. The corked vessel bounced on the plush blanket and settled into a quilted cradle of fabric. Another yawn split her lips as she rolled onto her side and tucked her knees up toward her chest. She would have to solve the mystery of the vial another day. Dark green lashes drooped. The time had come again for her to sleep and dream.

Some Other Time

The paths her travel-dusted feet chose weren?t always decided by others. Sometimes, the green-haired Nymphy Pix just couldn?t help herself. It would start ordinarily enough. It always did. And then she?d find herself standing on a fairly innocuous wooded hill. At first, she had tried to pretend the how and why was a mystery. That how she arrived at that particular spot was beyond her own machinations.

Amthy had stopped pretending after the third (or was it fourth?) time. It was useless to lie to herself when the truth was painfully obvious. She didn?t plan on staying long. Just three breaths worth of time?three good ones. She stayed within the tree line. Sometimes, it was handy to be Fae and mostly green in coloring.

Amthy took a breath and held it. One.

She quickly sought out the familiar sight of the humble cottage. Largely unremarkable, at least to her levels of extravagance, it sat within a modest tree-lined valley. She let her gaze follow the pitch of a roof. Her memories overlaid what she saw. Her expectations filling in the gaps of what her mind wanted to see and what was actually there.
Her chest began to ache. She exhaled and filled her lungs anew. Two


Amthy knew it was time to go. Only long enough to see it, she had promised herself, and be reassured by its existence. Her nails dug half-moons into her palms. She was just another wild thing roaming the wilderness. A pale flicker in the shadows of the trees ?even if she was a well dressed one. All the mental coaching hadn?t made it any easier to leave.

She sighed and pushed away from the darkness that held her. Three

She had eternity to redeem herself.

Never once did Amthy forget how long that truly was.

Days Later

Amthy held the glittering, purple vial in her hand. ?An? it comes back t?you,? she whispered to it. The motes of magic within shimmered invitingly. She shifted comfortably on the bed, the sheets and blankets tangled haphazardly around her. Inadvertently, she kicked the curtain and a chorus of singing crystals added their two cents to the Dryad?s dilemma.

Idly, she scratched at her temple and rolled onto her side. The vial was placed at eye level, but far enough away that she could focus on it without strain. ?Jus? wha? d?you do?? She asked aloud and rolled the small vessel with her recently manicured nail. ?Do I dare or do I no???

Briefly, Amthy?s nose scrunched and her lips puckered. She wished it would tell her. Curious as she was, she wasn?t so daft that she didn?t feel fear. Her mouth felt dry and her throat tight. Quickly, she dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue. The beat of her heart quickened.

Could she let herself be controlled by fear?

Lightly, she nibbled on her upper lip. She considered the source of her indecision as she chewed. Impulsively, she grabbed the vial. Her fingers wrapped firmly around it. She could feel the glass warming to her touch. With her eyes closed, she felt for the lip of the vial with her thumb nail. Deliberately, she pressed into the sealant. She felt the wax-like substance give beneath the thin razor of the nail edge.

Slice! She dragged her thumb around the edge of the stopper. The sealant crumbled and packed beneath the nail. Brief, but sharp, painful notes echoed through her hand as particles made their way underneath the nail bed. And then she tried the stopper. Amthy pinched it between her fingers and pulled.

It was open.

Cautiously, she opened one eye and then the other. Maybe she was mad. Her lower lip jutted over the top in thoughtful consideration. Or maybe, she was just determined. Amthy wasn?t sure she was qualified to say. She tapped a portion of the precious dust to the edge of the vial.

Her heart leapt. Now or never, she thought. Wetting her fingertip, she painstakingly collected a smudge of purple onto the pad. Awkwardly, she replaced the stopper in the vial. It had been easier when she hadn?t been worried about wasting the glittering dust. Amthy rolled onto her stomach and tucked the vial beneath her pillow.

And then she stared at her finger.

She still didn?t know how to use it. Hopefully, she wouldn?t waste too much before she figured it out.

Amthy?s Wind Sibs happily reintroduced her to the sky. They played with her like a leaf caught helpless in their collective grasp. She was brought higher with playful breaths blown across her belly that caught beneath her glider-like wings. Then she was dropped until Amthy?s stomach twisted with the threat of vomit?only to be rescued above the surf with her Wind Sibs? laughter echoing in her frozen ears. They sent her wheeling in mischievous cartwheels and spins that left her dizzy and disorientated.

Through it all, Amthy was happy to fly; happy to surrender herself to mindless oblivion. Nothing else existed but the sky. She didn?t even bother to open her eyes. With them closed, Amthy could imagine she was free of her shell. She lived in the distant memory of simply being a sylph and nothing else. For those precious moments, Hildegarde had never imprisoned her. Mysty had never molded her shell into a pixie. Silvanous hadn?t betrayed her with the influence of his magic to mold her shell further into a dryad to make her a member of his grove.

She was simply as she was meant to be?an air elemental free to roam the firmament. No regrets. No obligations. No attachments. No thought for anything but the moment. Consequences were for mortal creatures tethered to time, not for an eternal creature such as her. Unfortunately, it took very little to remind her that she had become one of those lowly tethered creatures, too.

It started with a miscalculation in the twist of her wing and a gust that hit her at too sharp an angle. Her wings, a construction and not a natural extension of her body, were not effortless to maneuver. It took thought more than instinct, but as the reality of her plight filtered through her awareness. Amthy found she did not have the necessary finesse. One miscalculation begot another until Amthy had no control at all. She was at their mercy.

She didn?t scream. Her voice was frozen in her chest. It was one of those rare nightmares: helpless to save herself or alert others to her need. Her Wind Sibs remained oblivious. They were playing. She was their toy. Wrapped up in their joy, they had forgotten to be kind. She was something soft and cuddly that they thoughtlessly ground between their hands.

Amthy hit the frozen ground hard. She tumbled and rolled. One of her wings was pulled partially free as the straps gave out. It flapped against her like the lame bird she fancied herself to be. Her chest hurt. She tried to breathe, but she couldn?t. Her lungs refused to comply. Instead, Amthy made short strangled noises. Everywhere hurt, but she was too shocked too do anything about it. Instead, she just stayed on the ground and stared with dewy eyes at the now oddly star-studded sky. The same one she had just fallen from.

It just wasn?t fair.

She was only dimly aware of someone kneeling beside her. It was talking to her, but she couldn?t make out the words over the ringing in her ears. Eventually, she realized it was Neano. At first, she didn?t understand, but she should have known. He had followed her. Duty demanded it. She was thankful and resentful all at once. This moment should have been private. He picked her up and she yelped.

?Stupid,? Neano muttered.

Amthy didn?t know if she was meant to hear it or not. Had she actually heard it, or just recognized the movement of his mouth? She gathered her confusion around her like a blanket to dull the pain she felt. She couldn?t look at Neano. The motion made her ill. She looked instead to the sky. Fat tears obscured her vision and dripped into her ears. Stupid. Amthy continued to cry, because despite it all; she knew that he was right.

It was worse than Amthy had imagined. Tears dribbled freely down her ruddy face, and her hair hung in damp rope-like tendrils that dripped everywhere. The Nymph made a break for the door and took the stair in haste. Her wet feet slipped on the steps and she grabbed at the rail.

?You dunn understand!? She yelled back at Cayt who was still in the hallway. Her voice broke with her distress.

?You?re worse than a child, Amthy!? Cayt yelled back angrily. ?It?s like I?m being punished because ?Rora never went through it.? Her booted feet thudded on the landing as she followed Amthy at a safer pace. ?Can you stop being selfish for a moment and think of someone other than yourself? Oh, wait, you?re Fae. That?s all you do!?

?Tha?s no? true an? you know it!? Amthy protested as she clung to the towel that she?d barely managed to wrap around herself when she had fled the bath room. ?Iffin you feel tha? way fine! I?ll be selfish. Me. Me. Me. Tha?s all I care about!? Her voice was heavy with hurt and sorrow. Her injuries did not prevent her from making a line for the exit. She stomped to the door, and struggled with the lock. With her emotions high, she hardly noticed the complaints of her body. They?d catch up with her later, of that she had no doubt.

?Amthy, wait,? Cayt called as she took to the steps. She took a breath and willed herself composed. Her voice gentled, ?don?t go.? Angry as she was with her heart sister, she didn?t want her to leave. Nor did she want to see her in pain, but she couldn?t stand to see her pine away any longer. There hadn?t appeared to be any other way to get through to her. Amthy, she knew, could be a single-minded creature when she was so inclined. Maybe, she had been crueler than necessary, but it was only because she loved her.

Amthy could hear distant voices and footsteps. The denizens of Ardane had come to find out what all the hollering had been about. Yet another thing she wasn?t up to dealing with. She wrenched the door open. Amthy needed some air and she needed space. Before Cayt could exit the stairwell, she exited the manor. She slammed the door, but could hear Cayt calling for her through the wood, and their shared link. She just didn?t want to hear anything else that her heart sister had to say.

Amthy slept in the tree. Not well, but she had slept. The morning started with her proverbial glass being half full. She was still nestled awkwardly against the crotch of the tree branches when the squirrels woke her. She attributed that splendid fact to her Nymph-y nature. She wouldn?t be much of a dryad if she fell out of trees.

She sighed and pulled a hank of her tangled olivine-hued hair from her mouth. Something rough and mysterious rubbed against her tongue. Squealing, she quickly spat over the edge of the branch and raked her fingers across it. Had it been a bug? When had she started sleeping with her mouth open? Amthy was horrified. Next thing, she would start to snore. It just wasn?t dignified.

Since she was completely awake, Amthy turned her attention to her surroundings. The limbs were bare and snow and ice decorated both the branches and the floor. Amthy pet her fingers over a gnarl in the wood. Lantern-like eyes closed as she searched for a sign of any life within her perch. What she found was sluggish at best. Hibernating, she decided.

She also found she was cold. From her nose to her toes and everywhere in between, Amthy was freezing. But it wasn?t enough to harm her. Luckily, she was made of sterner stuff than a human. What it did do was make her sleepy. The chill sank into her bones, and reminded her that all good nymphs should be hibernating like the tree she currently occupied. At least, she thought, it helped with the ache in her shoulder.

Amthy?s lower lip thrust outward as her thoughts travelled from her injuries to Cayt. She wondered if her heart sister would look for her. Did she want to be found? Amthy scratched absently at her wrist. Maybe they would just send Neano. Her dark green brow furrowed. Where would he look?

Her bright eyes rolled upward in thought. Neano would go to the likely places first: the Dragon, the Manor, and the Chateau. Even white teeth sank into the tender inside of her mouth. Would he think to come to the valley? She kicked her feet and watched the swinging shadows on the snow.

Yes, she decided, he would.

Days Upon Days Later

Amthy stared at the top of her crystal canopy. A single candle?s flame brought some of them to a warm ember glow, but the rest remained dark and quiet. Delicately, she chewed on the inside of her lip. Amthy had been at it for some time, and she could feel the raw tissue swelling to meet her teeth and gums. She prodded it experimentally with her tongue.

Why couldn?t she sleep? She wondered. Her mind refused to be still. Instead of dreaming, she was focused on the partial darkness. Amthy thought about the things she had done that day, and the things she should have but did not do. She thought about colors and fabrics, and the wrinkles in her sheets.

She played tic-tac-toe in her head and wove a cat?s cradle in her fingers with a string that had come unraveled from her nightshirt. Occasionally, her thoughts turned to Cayt and their last conversation. She tried not to linger too long on the memories that fought their way to the surface. It did her no good to dwell on them.

And she thought about him.

Idly, Amthy clicked her fingernails together. She picked at the edges and frayed the corners of her manicure. There was still the dust, she reminded herself. Her experiments with it hadn?t amounted to much. The once full vial was now closer to halfway full?she refused to think of it as halfway closer to empty.

Amthy rolled over onto her side. With one eye closed she searched under her pillow. The purple vial was never very far away, just in case. It took a few moments to locate it, but she did. Amthy rolled onto her back and popped the small container open. The hesitation she used to feel about using the shimmering purple powder was gone. All that was left was her apparently endless search.

Hastily, Amthy made a list of the previous ways she had used the fine dust. She had eaten it with cake, sniffed it (not something she looked forward to repeating), brewed a pinch like tea, burned it like incense, and drank wine dusted with it. Her mouth twisted to the side in consideration. The swiftly fading scent of ginger mingled with lemongrass and burnt cinnamon. She searched her imagination for a new application.

She shrugged her shoulders, though there was no one there to see. After readjusting her hold on the vial, she fit her pointer finger over the opening. She gave it a good shake, and when she drew her finger away it was coated with the stuff. With some maneuvering she replaced the cork and tucked the vial back under her pillow.

How else could she use it?

She brightened in the dim candle light. There was an idea circulating around in her airy little head. Luckily, for now, there were a few more applications she could think of. Soon, she would need help, but for now her imagination was enough. Amthy gave a light hum as she dragged her fingertip across one eye lid and then the other. The powder went on smooth like make up. If it was the Sandman?s stuff there was probably no better place to put it.

Now, all she had to do was sleep and see if she was right.

Sometime Back At Ardane

It begged repeating that winter was not Amthy?s season. The Woods slept and her magic was low. It was cold and unyielding. The only thing it had going for it was the fashion?she did enjoy a nice fur. Even if she hadn?t been gleefully forcing sleep upon herself, she would have felt the need to sleep anyway. The trees were hibernating, and so too should she. But mostly, winter made walking anywhere a pain.

Amthy stomped the feeling back into her bare feet. The wrap-around porch had been cleared for the winter. There wasn?t a chair to be found for her to rest on. Amthy frowned and looked down at the puffy confection in plum and fuchsia that she wore. Twisting her mouth to the side, she concentrated on smoothing the random wrinkles she?d collected that day. She caught sight of a stain and tried to scratch it away. Just because she liked fine, pretty things, it didn?t mean she took care of them.

The scent of burnt cinnamon mingled with the forest pine that hung in the air around Ardane. Determinedly, she scrubbed her clammy palms on the sides of her skirt. She could feel Cayt along their link. Her heart sister knew she was there. Amthy wagered that everyone knew. They always did. Even if the link didn?t exist, the Hishn prowling Ardane would have told her.

Eventually, she screwed her courage to the sticking place and rapped her knuckles on the door. Most days she just let herself in. Today was special. It wouldn?t do to barge in when you were trying to find forgiveness. The sound of her hand against the wood was high-pitched and lacked depth. Could they hear her? She tried again, but this time she used the side of her balled fist and put her shoulder into it.

Amthy loitered for a few minutes with no answer. Annoyed, she hufflepuffed and knocked again with both hands. ?Hey! Le?me in!? She called with her mouth pressed against the seam of the door.

?Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin!?

Her annoyance flowed into mischievous amusement. There was something deliciously irrational about a wolf saying those lines. ?Well, I?ll huff an? puff an? blow your house in,? Amthy answered in an impish tone.

The door opened and Cayt stood there in her worn leather work breeches and a gray and white Fair Isle sweater. The green eyed, silvery-blonde haired shifter tipped her hip against the door frame and crossed her arms across her chest. ?We wouldn?t want you to do that. We just fixed the place up.?

??Cause I could really do it,? Amthy answered. It was hard to tell if she was serious or not. ?But tha?s no? why?m here.? She assured Cayt quickly. She splayed her hands wide in an open, palm up gesture. ??m sorry, Cayt.?

Cayt?s pert nose twitched. ?So am I.?

?If it makes it any better, I finally saw him.? Amthy dropped her gaze and traced a figure eight with her big toe on the porch.

Cayt?s pale brows lifted in interest. ?And how did that go??

Amthy grimaced. ?Alarmingly terrible,? her voice was heavy with angst and regret. The brisk winter air turned summery with the aroma of strawberries. Amthy pressed the butt of her palm against her brow in memory.

?That bad, huh??

Sympathy and comfort danced along the link between them. ?Yes,? Amthy hissed and tugged at the front of her puffy purple dress as she looked back up at Cayt. ?But somehow, he overlooked tha? part an? wanted me anyway.? A blush stole across her cheeks. ??s the mystery o? the ages.?

Cayt laughed. ?Not that big of a mystery,? she teased as she stepped out of the door frame. ?Come on. Let?s see if Hedwig will make us some cocoa. I think we have some cookies left, too. Then we can talk all about it.?

?In gory detail?? Amthy asked in morbid curiosity as she stepped into the manor house proper.

?I wouldn?t have it any other way,? Cayt replied and closed the door behind them.

A Few Days Later at Ardane

??Ve decided something,? Amthy said in a friendly, but resolute way to Cayt. The green-haired nymph posed before her sister. One dress and then another was pressed against her lissome frame for the blonde?s consideration. Amthy found her sister to be more trustworthy than a mirror. Mirrors were curious things she rarely dared to look upon lest she find herself enchanted.

Cayt shook her head. ?I wouldn?t put it on. It does nothing for your hair,? she said about the neon yellow dress Amthy held. Cayt uncrossed her legs and stretched. Her backside had fallen asleep and her feet felt like they were full of pins. ?What did you decide?? She asked as she fell back to rest on her elbows with her legs stretched out in front of her.

?Once,? Amthy began as she looked at the neon yellow dress. She scrunched her nose and tossed it onto the pile on the floor. Hangers slid across the closet rod as she searched for something else. ?he tol? me tha? he got the things he wanted by lettin? other people do the work for him.? The nymph gave a happy hoot. She pulled a pale carnation dress from the closet, and gave a small twirl as she offered it up to Cayt.

?Nah,? Cayt dismissed it with a poke of her tongue. ?You have prettier dresses. By ?he? I suppose you mean Morpheus.? She held up her foot since her hands weren?t accessible. ?Stop, I like that one.?

Amthy looked at the navy blue dress with snow-colored polka dots. Pensively, she puckered her lips and furrowed her brow. She followed the laced trimmed ?v? neck with her eyes and took in the long, contour-hugging sheath-like cut. ?I think ?s better suited t?you than me.? Amthy tossed the dress toward the bed where it fell awkwardly. ?An? yes, I do mean him.?

?I don?t think I?ll wear it,? Cayt said as she shook her head. ?Why would he tell you that?? Interest played along the mental link that connected them.

Amthy flushed and blushed. ?Er, well, I was talkin? ov?r how I, um,? She stammered. Amthy poked around in her closet as the scent of strawberries lightly scented the air. She cleared her throat, ?how aggressive mine courtship o' him was?which?ve been prone to when it comes it him. See I wanted, an? still do by the way, to be a gentler sort o? girl,? Amthy rambled, ?the fragile flower sort tha' simpers an' bruises easily. Tha's beside the point, he jus' did say tha' he seduced me by lettin' me seduce him first.?

Cayt laughed through her nose and it came out more of a snort. ?Uh-huh.?

Her sister?s tone begged for her to go on, so Amthy obliged. She pointedly ignored the smirk that had settled on the Shifter?s lips. ?Wha? d?you think about emberglow?? She pulled a red-orange garment from the closet and pressed it to her chest. ?I look nice in orange and in red. This is somewhere in between.?

?When you wear red, I think of Yule.? Cayt?s nose twitched in annoyance. ?What did you decide, or were you just feeling nostalgic??

?Oh, no,? Amthy laughed and shook her head. Olivine hair splayed across her shoulders, the ends resting near the dress in question. ?No? nostalgic.?

?That dress looks horrible,? Cayt replied.

?D?you think so?? Amthy asked, dismayed.

?Yes, now spit it out already.?

?I decided he le?me be incredibly awkward so I could do all the work,? Amthy nodded. Her airy voice was matter-of-fact.

?Like how he reverse seduced you?? Cayt asked, amused. A pale silvery-blonde brow lifted.

?Exactly.? Amthy?s eyes rounded to brilliant saucers and she dropped to sit in a puff at the foot of the bed. ?So I shouldn? feel even the slightest bit embarrassed anymore,? she singsonged, ??cause I was awkward for the both of us.?

?I?m sure that was exactly what he was doing,? Cayt said dryly.

?Oh, ?m certain o? it,? Amthy laughed. She pat her sister's outstretched leg and stood. She had only gone through half her closet. There was still more modeling to do.

Sometime Later at the Red Dragon Inn

Amthy marveled over her collection of feathers. They made soft mottled mounds of color on the plush landscape of her bed covers. There were white ones and gray ones?blue-y, purple-ish and cream ones, too. There were small ones and large ones; Fluffy bits of down and sleek, rigid pinions. Each of them had been a gift. Granted, sometimes she begged for them. Other times, she hadn?t needed to. No matter how she had come by them, each was precious to her.

Nutmeg touched the air as she reached for a long, slender gray feather with a blue sheen. A smile borne from pure contentment found a home on Amthy?s lips. Warmth spread through her chest and butterflies wriggled in the pit of her stomach. Unexpectedly, she laughed and tucked the shaft of the feather into the tangle of her gradient olivine hair.

Once, she had fancied all sorts of things made with the feathers. With so many, she could stuff a pillow. Bright, lantern-like eyes rolled up and to the side in a secret, impish expression. The thought was amusing, but not as amusing as a feather tick mattress. She started to laugh again and the sound mingled with the sweet chime of crystals as her toes struck against the curtain that surrounded the bed.

Plucking another feather from the plethora before her, she sprawled on her stomach and dropped her cheek onto the side of her arm. So many feathers, Amthy thought. She twirled the shaft of the feather she held between her thumb and forefinger. To be fair, she had been collecting them for a very long time. In fact, she had coveted the Dreamy One?s feathers since she first spied Emma in a cloak created from them.

As her thoughts turned to Emma?s pristine cloak, Amthy walked her fingers toward the crystal curtain at the edge of the bed. Gently, she pushed a few glorious strands of faceted delight to the side and spied thoughtfully on the dress form that now resided on that side of the room. Emma wasn?t the only one with a cloak. Amthy had one, too?a lovely one with a snowy mantle and more of the blue-ish gray feathers to make up the body of the garment.

She kept her fingers hooked around the crystal strands for a moment longer. Amthy had always found the cloak too lovely to wear. She never wanted it ruined. But she recognized also that it was a shame not to wear it, either. Tsavorite-hued eyes turned to the feather in her hand. She studied it for a few breaths of time before it joined the first in the mess of her unruly tresses. Happily, her collection was growing. Several new feathers already waited to be mixed in with their brethren. The most recent of which was a playful splash of cream edged with tangerine.

Dark green lashes kissed against her cheeks as Amthy yawned. Her arm folded to pillow her head. Squirming, she wriggled deeper into the spill of fluffy color in lieu of getting under her blanket. The delicate scent of rose surrounded her at the feeling of their softness against her skin. Though she blithely welcomed sleep and the dreams it would bring, she also couldn?t wait to wake up. Half-formed ideas rolled around in her airy head. Amthy hoped by the time she woke up that she could cobble enough of them together to solve her feather-y quandary.

A Bit of Time Later

Amthy did a small pirouette with her arms lifted. At the end of her rotation, she posed with her hip canted to one side and her hands at her hips. Her fingers wrapped over the delicate, feminine flare. ?An? these?? She twisted and looked over her shoulder and tried to ogle her backside.

?Amthy, panties are panties,? Cayt answered as she watched Amthy model the frilled mini bloomers, ?but I guess they?re prettier than the other dozen you tried on.? Her voice was full of resignation tinged with suffering. She pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back in the chair.

?But these are no? jus? ordinary panties,? Amthy corrected with a tick of her finger. ?An? Pru made?m, they?re gonna b? pretty,? she clucked. Amthy swept a length of gradient olivine hair from her shoulder and made another turn in the dressing room. Madame Pru was her favorite modiste. A great majority of her wardrobe was crafted by the gifted fiber artist. ?D?they say anythin? t?you??

?I don?t know that panties ever say anything to anyone,? Cayt turned her eyes toward the ceiling and prayed to the Goddess for deliverance. ?Except maybe take me off,? she said cheekily as an afterthought.

?I wan? some tha? say dangerous.? Amthy made a sweeping gesture with one hand and corrected her chemise strap. She rambled right through Cayt talking so it took her airy head a moment to cycle back through what the silvery-blonde had actually said. She snorted through a giggle and clapped. ?Tha?s sommat Miles would say,? she brightened in appreciation.

?You should have brought him.? Cayt poked her tongue out at the nymph. ?Just imagine whatever Miles would say, and that?s exactly what I think, too.?

?But he?d say sommat like, ?when did you start wearin? panties??? She said in her best impersonation of Miles? voice and demeanor as she swaggered around in a small circle. She leered for good measure. ?An? then I?d say sommat like, ?but I wear?em sometimes,? an? then he?d say--.?

?I could have lived my life without knowing that,? Cayt interrupted.

??s wha? he?d say, though.? Amthy preened a bit, her gaze purposefully avoiding the mirror. ?I jus? wan? sommat pretty. Dangerous would be nice. But mostly pretty.?

?To sleep in?? Cayt lifted a pale brow.

?Sure,? Amthy answered as she snapped the waist band and then fiddled with a thin ribbon accent around the opening of her right leg.

Cayt laughed and sent a teasing tickle down the mental rapport they shared. ?You know you probably won?t be wearing them in your dreams.?

?Doesn? mean I shouldn? make an effort.?

?Oh, I?m sure he appreciates the effort.? Cayt pushed off of her chair and moved toward the curtain. ?Next time, I vote that you bring Morph instead of me,? she pushed a small portion of the heavy curtain to the side and slipped out of the dressing room. ?He?ll give you some feedback you can actually use.?

?Won? tha? ruin the surprise?? Amthy?s brows furrowed as she pulled another dainty hanger off the wall and with it another diaphanous creation.

?Somehow, I don?t think he?d mind,? Cayt chuckled as she pulled the curtain closed from the outside and left Amthy alone with the oodles of silk, satin, and lace she had yet to try on.

A Day or Two Later

Gina rubbed her gloved hands together. Dirt rained down onto the yard around her feet. ?What are those??

?Trees,? Neano drawled with lukewarm interest, and complete possession of the obvious. The dark-haired Hishn appraised the pair of burlap wrapped saplings from the porch. He crossed his arms over the railing and leaned heavily against the fencing.

?I can see that.? Gina snapped as she pulled off one of the gloves and threw it at him. ?I guess I meant to ask, why?? Gina explained clearly stumped.

?Why they?re trees or why they?re here??

?And this is why Amthy never wants to take you anywhere.?

?She doesn?t mind me around,? Neano replied unaffected. ?The only time she cares is when she doesn?t want anyone to notice when she does something stupid.? He paused. ?Speaking of?the trees are for her.?

?Of course,? Gina laughed. Her lips quirked at one corner and she turned her eyes to the line of the second story windows. ?Has anyone told her they?re here??

?Yeah, Cayt went to tell her a bit ago.?

?Do you know why she got them??

Neano shook his head. Shifting his weight, he adjusted his lean and crossed his legs. ?Why does she get anything?? He turned his head; listening. ?They?re coming.?

?What? Hurry up and pretend like we?re not talking about her?? Gina asked. Her voice was heavy with amusement. She removed her other glove and hit it against her leg before she tucked it into her back pocket. She ambled in a slow circle around the pair of branched saplings before she moved toward the porch to retrieve her other glove.

?That isn?t--.?

The door behind Neano was tossed open and a high pitched squeal of complete feminine joy split through the air. ?They?re here!?

??what I meant,? Neano finished lamely.

?Wha? did you mean, Neano?? Amthy gushed as she scampered across the porch and stumbled down the steps to where the saplings rested. ?They?re gorgeous. Jus? scrumptious!? She gasped. Her hands folded together and pressed to the base of her throat.

?They?re trees,? Neano pointed out.

?She knows,? Cayt replied with humor as she took up a lean beside Neano.

?What are they for?? Gina hazarded to ask the green-haired nymph-pix.

Tsavorite-hued eyes sparkled and widened to veritable saucer-like proportions. ?Quick, tell me, which is more romantic: peach or pomegranate??

?Oh sweet Goddess, this is your gift?? Gina blinked deliberately, pulling her eyes open and shaking her head. ?What did I say about mixing bowls??

?But these aren?t mixing bowls,? Amthy gushed, ?they?re trees.?

?Why do people keep telling me that?? Gina huffed as Cayt and Neano laughed at her expense. ?The mixing bowls were an allegory, Amthy.?

?A wha? now?? Amthy asked as she fondled the thin branches of the pomegranate tree. ?You didn? answer mah question. Peach or pomegranate: first impression??

?You owe me money,? Neano voiced in the background. ?I paid the bill.?

Amthy waved a dismissive hand at Neano. ?Yes, yes, o? course,? she said airily. It was evident that her attention and interest was not on mundane matters of finance. With a flick of her head gradient olivine hair fell across her shoulder and she puffed out her cheeks. ?Which,? she said through puckered lips and chipmunk cheeks, ?is more romantic. Or sexah. Any impression. Do you have?un?? She pranced anxiously foot to foot.

?I guess?I don?t know they?re trees.?

?An?m a nymph.? Amthy fit her fists against her hips.

?I like peaches,? Cayt called from the porch.

?Peaches are easier to eat,? Neano allowed, but did not quite agree with Cayt.

?Gina?? Amthy looked at the jockey.

?You give the weirdest gifts. Last time, it was a sleeping bag.?

?No, ?twas a pillowcase,? she corrected. ?Come on,? Amthy wheedled. She went to stand between the two saplings and curled her arms around them.

?Why are there two??

?I couldn? decide,? Amthy admitted. ??m gonna keep the other for mahself. Please, this is important. Which would you fancy more??

Gina rolled her eyes up and sighed. ?Oh-kay.? Her brow drew thoughtfully. ?I?ve done some reading--.?

?Reading is good,? Amthy chirped.

?Look she?s more than a pretty face,? Neano teased.

?Stop it,? she huffed at Neano and cleared her throat and continued, ?and given the stories I?ve read, I?d pick the peach. Do you really want him to think about being stuck with you with absolutely no way to get rid of you??

A very vacant look filtered over Amthy?s finely crafted features. ??m sorry??

?Pomegranates, that chick ate some and had to spend all of her winters shacked up with some guy that like forced her to marry him. Do you want him to look out his window every day and feel like that??

?Tha? was no? mah plan, no.? Amthy wriggled her fingers. ?I was thinkin? sommat far more gentle an? affectionate.? She scratched at the back of her neck. ?Um, I dunn think I forced him.?

?You did stalk him,? Neano chimed in.

Amthy tugged at the front of her dress and rocked on the balls of her feet. Her expression faltered and the air around her soured with the scents of over ripe strawberries, burnt cinnamon, and rain. ?Peach it is.?

?Just think,? Cayt offered soothingly as she elbowed Neano. The Hishn rubbed at his ribs and looked at the silvery-blonde haired shifter in confusion. Emerald eyes leveled a pointed look at Neano, but didn?t offer him an explanation or apology. ?One day, you can make him something out of the peaches. Hedwig can teach you.?

Amthy perked. ?Oh!? She gasped. ?Tha? would be swell. I?ll have t?make sure there are lots an? lots of fruit.?

?I?m sure he?d like that,? Cayt replied.

?Oh,um, me, too,? Gina added.

Amthy laughed and pulled delicately at one of the peach saplings branches. ?How ?m I gonna get it t?the cottage??

?Neano can take it in a cart. Can?t you?? Gina offered the Hishn up with a fanning of her lashes.

He pressed a finger to his chest as Cayt wrapped an arm around one of his. She patted his chest below his finger. ?Oh, he?d love to take it for you. So don?t you worry about that, Amthy.?

Resigned, Neano slumped his shoulders. ?When do you want me to take it??

?T?night,? Amthy trilled and threw up her hands in a goal-like gesture. ?Now I jus? need some ribbon!? She squeaked and squealed as she took to the stairs and crossed the porch. Wrenching open the door, the nymph made her way back inside.

?Thanks,? Neano said drily to Gina.

The jockey snorted. ?Hey, you made your bed, buddy.?

Cayt laughed, ?and now you get to sleep in it.? A playful wink was followed by a pinch that was given to his upper arm. Cayt moved away from the porch and followed Amthy inside. She was followed by Gina.


?Lucky me,? Neano grumbled. He turned a baleful eye on the pair of saplings that mocked him from the yard. "I can't wait."

It didn?t rain, but Amthy sang. Neano wasn?t sure which was worse. The rain, he thought, had it come, was something he could curse at and escape. He wasn?t at liberty to do either to Amthy. The nymph won by default.

He flicked the reins and tried to keep both eyes on the dirt road. There were deep furrows from previous vehicles, and other hazards that demanded his attention. That and he didn?t think he could keep his annoyance from his expression.

?A Frog he would a-wooing go, heigh-ho, says Rowley! Whether his mum would let?im or no?. With a rowley-powley, gammon an? spinach, heigh-ho, says Anthony Rowley!?

Amthy sang loudly and enthusiastically from behind him. Neano stole a look, a small one, and saw the green-haired Fae sprawled in the back with one arm hooked companionably around the root ball. She was chewing on a stalk of sprouted grass, and he had no reasonable idea where it had come from. He shook his head and guided the mare at a slow pace onto the shoulder of the road to give an oncoming wagon more space. ?Whoa,? he called as he clucked his tongue.

?Pray Mister Frog will you give us a song? Heigh-ho says Rowley! But let it be sommat tha?s no? very long. With a Rowley-powley, gammon an? spinach, heigh-ho says Anthony Rowley!?

It took several minutes, but they started on the road again. The weather was warm and merchants were headed toward the city, along with the tourists. The road was getting its? share of work. He let his attention drift. If he purposefully ignored his alpha?s aunt, he could hear the birds and the hooves. Soothing sounds and nothing at all like the yowling cat in the back of the cart.

?But while they were all thus merry-making, heigh-ho says Rowley! A cat an? her kittens came tumblin? in. With a Rowley-powley, gammon an? spinach, heigh-ho says Anthony Rowley!?

?How long is that song?? He finally asked in exasperation. He was quite certain she had already sung ten verses. It didn?t sound like she planned on ending soon.

?Oh, ?tis a long?un. A very long?un,? she chirped blithely and laughed. Amthy drew in an exaggerated breath and launched into the next verse. ?The Cat she seized the Rat by the crown; heigh-ho says Rowley! The kittens, they pulled the little Mouse down. With a Rowley-powley, gammon an? spinach, heigh-ho says Anthony Rowley!?

?What in the Grey One are you singing about?? He asked in confusion as he tried to sort out the evolution of the song. There was a Frog, a Rat, and a Mouse. And now a Cat and her kittens?who appeared to have attacked the Rat and the Mouse?

?Is a love song.?

?Are you sure??

?Wait, ?m no? done, yet.? She laughed again, mischief in her lantern-like eyes as she chewed on her bit of grass. The seeds bobbed several inches away from her lips. ?This put Mister Frog in a terrible fright; Heigh-ho says Rowley! He took up his hat an? wished them good night, with a Rowley-powley, gammon an? spinach, heigh-ho says Anthony Rowley!? She gestured wildly, pointing here and there and toward the sky.

?He left?? Neano asked incredulously. ?Wasn?t he trying to woo the Mouse? Now he?s a coward and left her to die? Why a Frog wanted to marry a mouse I have no idea.? He tugged at the reins and angled the cart to take the next fork in the road.

?I wouldn? worry too much about tha? part. The Frog an? Mouse part, no? the killin? part. Besides, I didn? write the song,? Amthy replied as she wriggled her bare toes against the other side of the cart. ?But jus? wait! It gets better.? She delicately cleared her throat.

?I don?t see how.?

?Jus? wait,? she clucked playfully at him. ?But as Froggy was crossin? over a silvery brook, heigh-ho says Rowley! A lily-white duck came an? gobbled him up, with a Rowley-powley, gammon an? spinach, heigh-ho says Anthony Rowley!? She trilled. ?See, his yellow-streak was repaid t?him in the end.?

?But they all died??

Amthy pressed a finger to her chin. ?I think so.?

?And how was that a love song??

?It was deliciously tragic!? Amthy chirped as she crawled up to the front of the cart bed to fold her arms on the back of the bench seat just to the side of Neano. ?He fancied the lady, they had a bit o? a flirtation an? then they all died. ?s very romantic.?

?That is not romantic,? Neano argued.

?Ah! We?re nearly there. See tha? crest? Jus? ov?r yon is his cottage,? Amthy squeaked with excitement.

?I know. I?ve been here before. Several times before,? he said the last with stress as he looked side long at the top of Amthy?s head.

?You can stop at the top. I?ll carry the tree the rest o? the way. ?s no? far.?

?Are you strong enough??

Amthy sat up on her knees and flexed one arm. ?Feel! ?m very strong.? She poked at the side of her barely existent bicep. ??s how I get all the ladies. Tha? an? mah devastatin? good looks.? She sighed as if she was sorely put up?which she wasn?t?and then preened and primped. A soft croon rumbled in her throat and her not-so-little ego roused itself from its cat nap.

?How you manage to get up in the morning, I?ll never know,? Neano drawled sarcastically.


((snips of "A Frog He Would A-Wooing Go" ala the book Best Loved Nursery Rhymes and Songs: Mother Goose Selections))