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?But we need candy,? Amthy asserted earnestly. Dark green brows furrowed as the point of her chin dipped chest ward. Loose tendrils of olivine-green hair fell forward to frame the delicate features of an elfin face. ?Lots of candy.? Her voice raised in pitch, competing with the back ground echo of a hammer?s ting.

?So you can eat it all?? Caytlin, Amthy?s sister asked. Mirth wound through her voice along with a gentle, chiding accusation as she pulled on one end of the streamer they were attempting to hang. The gold and russet hued crepe paper pulled and twisted in her hands.

Rolling out her lips, the Nymph-y Pix released a pent breath. Her cheeks ballooned with the exhale. ?I only had one piece,? she pointed out to the silvery-blonde haired shape shifter. Amthy wobbled on her tiptoes, her balance on the single step foot stool precarious. ?No, le?t drape more,? she instructed Cayt, and tried to demonstrate by giving the streamer a few inches more slack.

?One piece today,? Cayt laughed, emerald eyes rolling upward. Parties had always been Amthy?s forte, not her own. She would rather be riding or hunting. Her gaze turned longingly toward the opening of the Forge. It was hot and humid inside, but every now and again she could feel the tease of the brisk autumn breeze and smell the sunshine and the hint of decaying leaves. She hated how oppressive the atmosphere was. It felt like the world was closing around her; suffocating. How Amthy could enjoy spending time there, she didn?t understand. ?But how many yesterday??

?I canno? rightly recall,? Amthy replied airily and with a haughty sniff as she snagged the streamer end on a nail. Twisting the material, she fussed over the crepe paper as if it was the most important thing in the world. And it was, at that very moment. She wanted Hawk and Jon Henri to be pleased with her labors. ??sides, I needed them to keep the bogs, gobs, and hobs away else they?d cause some terrible mischief.?

?Pixies, too??

?Pixies, too.? She nodded, dusting her hands over the bell of her skirt. Streaks of dust smeared across the pale yellow-peach fabric, exaggerating the length and splay of her own fae fingers.

?How about Nymphs?? Cayt?s silver-blonde brows perked.

?Most definitely,? Amthy chimed as she jumped down from the step stool with her arms extended, appreciating the way her skirt ballooned. ?Do you think it could save me from taking a spill?? She asked her sister, the workings of her airy little mind neglecting to include the key parts of her question. The Nymph-y Pix took for granted that not everyone knew what went on inside her head.

?I think it could probably make you fat, and the resulting round bottom could, possibly, offer protection.? Cayt swatted at Amthy?s backside with an audible thwap of her hand against the light colored fabric. ?But from the feel of things, you are already well on your way!? She teased, the tip of her tongue poking between her lips. ?So I wouldn?t worry.?

Amthy spun in a small circle, completely taken off guard. Tsavorite-like luminous eyes rounded and her heart missed several beats. ?What?? Peering over her shoulder, she tried to get a good look at the backside in question (the only one she was currently in possession of, so that made it easier). She decided then that over-the-shoulder was *not* the best vantage for viewing that particular asset.

?Worry about falling,? Cayt answered sagely. She tried to contain her smile, and focused her attention on rewinding the remaining paper into a neat little roll. The could use the remaining length to decorate Ardane. She knew the girls would have fun. Already she was making a list in her head of the things they could do: make caramel balls, decorate cookies, and decorate the foyer. Maybe, she?d even let them decorate a few of the pegs at Rising Star for the occasion.

?Falling?? Amthy worked to keep up.

?Yep,? Cayt nodded, tucking the decorations into a soft-sided, handled bag. ?Does Hawk like his women to have a lot of curve??

The dust betrayed his unnoticeable strides, swirling up and around his body with every step he took on the path. His shadow stretched out before him, it was long and thin as the dying light of the sun began to steal the light from the forest. The shadows cast varying angles upon Hawk's strong features: concealing his eyes, distinguishing the square line of his jaw, and accentuating his high cheek bones. The deciduous trees about him had begun to shed their leaves, leaving a tapestry of various autumn hues strewn about the forest floor that amazingly never cracked or rustled when his thick leather boots trampled them. It was in autumn that the cloak of camouflaging colors that he often wore seemed to joyously thrive. When he moved the forest moved with him, with each shade of brown, yellow or orange duplicated to near perfection upon the cloak's ever changing thread. A cutting breeze blew his lax locks of finely woven gold and chocolate behind him and billowed his cloak upon his shoulders. When he finally emerged from the border of trees that surrounded Rhy'Din's Marketplace it looked as if the forest was coming with him.

The uneven plain of cobbled stones did not seem able to deter him from the dangerously graceful he moved. There was a certainty to every movement made over the garbled road; that each rolling step would fall sure and flow from one into the next. Combined with the fact that his cloak hung to hover just a hair's breath above the ground, and the fact that he did not disturb the senses when he walked, he looked to be floating along the path he was travelling.

The Forge was close. The fine scent of molten and wrought iron had flooded his olfactory senses as soon as he turned down the side street. The Marketplace's normal crowd mulled about in the autumn air, the dull roar of a plethora of conversations nearly overwhelming his sensitive hearing. It was odd that Jon Henri's hammer was not ringing out to drown the conversations he unwillingly eavesdropped and call him back home as it always did.

The storefront was open, but neither sound nor sight of his immense friend could be gathered. What he did smell on an errant breeze was unfamiliar to him, and numerous scents that forced a fond smile to caress his stoic features. He turned the corner and crossed his arms just over the slight, but well defined rise of his chest, delightfully surprised to find Amthy. "Hello d'aram o man." Although he longed to give the Nymph-y Pix a more proper greeting, he still gave a polite bow to Cayt. "Khellesh ashtee m'lady." His rich baritone voice rolled gutturally when he spoke the greeting in his native tongue.

?Do you like the way this smells??

For a moment he could barely distinguish the scent of the candle amidst the sudden influx of scents Amthy emitted. But the sudden scent of pumpkin bludgeoned its way past all the other distinguishable scents into his sensitive nose, and he had to turn his head away as his head began to swim with the intensity of the spice. ?I think it?s delightful. Do you think Jon Henri will like it??

Hawk nodded his head, considering the tastes and preferences of his ba'ro'dahr. "I think he shall enjoy it." The Ranger managed to tear his glance away from the nymph long enough to glance around at the decorations she and Cayt had hung. "You have certainly improved Jon Henri's drab interior. Did he ask you to decorate?" He gathered a bit of cloth in his hands and lifted it, inspecting the pattern of colors and how they mimicked the autumn color of leaves. Hawk offered a shy but kind smile to Cayt and extended his right hand to her in greeting. "My pardons, your friend seems to have me quite distracted. I am Hawk Jahad." He seemed completely unabashed to show Cayt his brightest of smiles. The one he wore whenever Amthy was present, that forced light into his normally diffident eyes. "Perhaps she has told you much about me?" He chuckled and did not even let the woman get a word in edgewise. "In fact, I do not even need you to answer that question." His spirits had ascended and impossibly he had suddenly become talkative. He was not doing an effective job of maintaining his stony indifference, especially not with the enthusiastic way he spoke.

He came up behind the nymph and set his hand upon her lower back affectionately. "I am glad to see you here."

?Tha?s mah sister Cayt, ?ve told you about her,"

Hawk offered Cayt a knowing glance when Amthy spoke, recognition alighting in his normally diffident earthen gaze. "Khellesh ashtee." The roll of guttural syllables from his native tongue seemed a more natural way of speaking for him than was the Common tongue, but it explained his curious accent.

?I was hoping tha? we would see you, but I had hoped tha? we would be finished before?.?

"Before...?" A curious expression beset the Ranger's face in a variety of emotions he was not known to often wear. He gave another glance around the storefront to the Forge. The other levels were flats that he and Jon Henri had built for themselves, although Hawk's often went unoccupied.

?I hope the surprise was no? spoilt??

The smile he was wearing brightened, so much so that it tugged definitively upon the sinuous crimson scar that traveled the left side of his face. "No, not at all. I am amazed to see such amazing work." The Ranger took a few strides about the room to place his hands upon the various hangings and decorations. "It adds a more personal touch to Jon Henri's Forge." He chuckled lightly. "I am sure he will enjoy it. Perhaps it will draw more customers to the storefront." Hawk returned to Amthy's side and offered her his hand. "Do you need a break? It looks as if you and your sister have been hard at work. I am sure Jon Henri will not be back for quite some time. He usually does not leave, and when he does it is for most of the day to get his errands done."

Amthy watched Hawk as he made his circulation around the Forge. Her lower lip caught pensively beneath her teeth as she waited with bated breath for his final analysis on her work of the day. There was a small niggling of doubt in the back of her mind--she really should have asked first. The feeling, innocuous at first, grew with feeling and persuasion. Amthy released her lip with a huffling exhale that fluttered her lips with a modicum of defeat. A small chuckle snagged the Nymph?s attention. Tsavorite-like eyes cut toward quickly Cayt and her brow furrowed with exaggerated indignation. ?Hey!? She sputtered at her Heart-Sister with a chiding wag of her finger.

Cayt feigned innocence. Her lips pursed with a low, melodic whistle. The tune was distinctly teasing in quality. With a flick of her head, she drove the length of her pale colored hair from her shoulder and thrust her hands down into her pockets. Caytlin followed Hawk?s progress around the Forge. Her echoing steps kept her only a foot fall behind her sister?s beau. Until, that was, his route returned him to Amthy?s side. Instead, she lingered beside one of the work benches and examined the blacksmith?s work in varying stages of completion.

"Do you need a break? It looks as if you and your sister have been hard at work. I am sure Jon Henri will not be back for quite some time. He usually does not leave, and when he does it is for most of the day to get his errands done."

Amthy considered Hawk?s inquiry. Her lower lip curled over her upper as her teeth raked downward to pull her upper lip between her teeth. It wasn?t the most flattering of expressions to ever grace her finely wrought Fae features. ?I do no? think?ve been working terribly hard,? she said slowly in reply. ?Though, I do no? think there is aught else tha? I can do just now.? Her fingers curled around her chin so that it was pinched between her thumb and the side of her forefinger. ?Except, perhaps, I could always--.?

"Hello ba'ro'dahr. Lady Amthy."

Jon Henri?s arrival interrupted Amthy?s thought. She was an airy thing by nature, and her attention span was lamentable at best. ?Ah! You?ve returned!? She exclaimed. Spinning away from Hawk, Amthy clasped her hands eagerly before her. The bell of her skirt bounced as she jiggled excitedly in place on her tippy toes. ?We have dearly miss-ed you, Jon Henri,? Amthy gushed.

"Hi! I am Jon Henri. It is nice to meet you."

Caytlin looked away from the metal work and toward Jon Henri at his arrival. She couldn?t disguise the fleeting moment of surprise at his appearance. Even though she had lived in Rhy?Din for most of her adult life, there were still things that gave the shifter pause. Emerald eyes widened and then relaxed as she carefully, and quickly pushed past her initial astonishment to greet the man properly. ?I?m Cayt. It?s nice to meet you, too,? she answered with a smile. Sliding her hand against his offered one, she gave it a welcoming shake. ?This is your place??

?Jon Henri!? Amthy called as she swarmed onto the Blacksmith. She flung herself childishly at him, and dangled from his arm. ?Jon Henri!? She drew out his name and let the ?re? sound ring happily from her lips. Her head hung back and olivine hair brushed against her back pendulously. ?Did you errands go well?? She asked. Every fiber of her begged for him to notice her work, but she wanted him to notice on his own, not that he could really ignore all the seasonal fluff she?d brought into his work place.

Cayt?s smile tightened as Jon Henri pumped her hand. It wasn?t an expression that was borne from dislike, but awkwardness. The blacksmith was strong, and it was discomforting the way his hand enveloped hers completely. ?There is no need to call me Lady,? she interjected, her voice overlapping Amthy?s as her sister claimed the man?s attention.

?Yes! Yes!? Amthy chirped excitedly. A merry peal of laughter spilled from her lips as she released Jon Henri. She splayed her arms wide as he moved away from her as if to embrace her work lovingly to her chest. ?I did doing all this!? Her joy was tangible. She preened and primped on the inside. ??course Cayt did help,? she added. Amthy found it was a good habit to give credit where it was due.

Amthy did not notice Hawk?s nod that supported Jon Henri?s belief that she was the one that meddled with the Forge?s d?cor. She was just delighted that he had noticed. When Jon Henri gathered her up, she curled her arms around his stout shoulders. At his squeeze, she was transformed into a squeak toy; a small piping sound was forced from her chest. ?Then you do liking it?? She asked breathlessly. His thanks were all that she needed. His gratitude was like the sun melting away the fog, and she beamed; radiant.

"Does this mean you will stay?" Jon Henri said to Amthy. "My ba'ro'dahr gets into a nasty sort of mood when you are gone. It is not fun to be around him."

An avocado and aqua blush streaked across her cheeks. She grunted softly when Jon Henri dropped her back onto her feet. Girlishly, she tugged at the front of her dress and twisted in place. In the background, Cayt sighed and rolled her eyes. She gave the group her back to hide the echoing blush on her own features. A cruel side effect to the free exchange of emotion and thought that flowed between them via their mental link. Amthy?s head tipped toward her shoulder and she closed one eye. ?I dunno tha?s mah place to say iffin I will." Amthy pointedly ignored Caytlin's snort, "I do thinking tha? does demand an invitation,? she answered as her gaze briefly lit upon Hawk before returning to Jon Henri.

When Hawk turned back to Amthy, she tipped up her chin and puffed out her cheeks. Nervousness fluttered through her chest. She couldn't help feeling like she had somehow, if even inadvertantly, put the Ranger in a pickle. That did not prevent her from wishing that his words were true and his sentiment sincere. Brushing her fingers across her brow, Amthy pushed stray tendrils of olivine green from her forehead.

"Iffin tha's wha' you do wish," she replied slowly, feeling each word thoughtfully upon her tongue before releasing the sounds from her lips. The angle of her chin dropped as she spoke until the point threatened to touch her chest. "I would no' think to you to make it so." Amthy tried to keep her voice light. There was an odd tension winding through her breast and the scent of burnt cinnamon spiked giving weight to her discomfort.

Cayt's pale brows lifted in amusement. Through the link they shared, she tickled Amthy playfully. A gentle, teasing emotion and play of images mingled with the Shifter's mental 'voice.' A reassurance that, as always, the Nymph was free to make the decisions she saw fit. She knew Amthy had many things to weigh and consider, but Cayt's support was never in question. The relay of information was followed up with a mental tweak.

Amthy jumped and squeaked mid-sentence. She stole a mildly disgruntled look at Cayt (Sisters could be such a pain!) as she changed her thought and continued. "--but it does seem the Wind does push my feet," she finished clumsily, "an' home would no' be such a bad thing. I do like to collect them," Amthy added with a self-possessed tone.