Pan wound his way through Delumine, a new adventure on his mind. His steps are light and sprightly, and characteristically, he hummed as he walked. Up ahead, the sun shone brightly through a hazy group of autumn clouds. Its rays reached toward the earth like outstretched fingers, brushing against the ground with subtle warmth and a golden hue. As he danced beneath the canopy of trees, sunlight bounced from silver and green scales, sending a prismatic flurry of light dancing ahead of him like fairy dust. He dodged and tried to catch the light flickers, fully knowing that they were just reflections, but pretending like they were small fires that he needed to extinguish. 

The sound of a snapping twig had him turning with curiosity, and as he peered into the emerald shadows of the forest, he began to make out the form of a strange female. At first, he has to wonder if she’s really a horse at all, intrigued by the sight of her pale purple skin, the horn upon her head, and a thin brush-like tail. He watches her for a few moments, wondering if he should ask what kind of horse she was… but then he decides she must be a fairy.  Giddy at the thought, he cannot help himself.  Pan creeps closer to her, his green eyes wide with intrigue as he aches to know more about her story.

Hello? His voice is meek and gentle as he steps even closer to the mare, reaching to touch his small muzzle against her neck in a curious (albeit unasked-for) gesture. Where are your wings?  The scaly colt stands awkwardly beside her, head cocked like a dog who just witnessed a slight of hand.  For surely, a fairy would have wings… but perhaps she had lost them in some tragic accident. 

It was strange, he’d never seen a creature as beautiful as Mesnyi.  Even in his dreams, he’d never seen a mare with skin that seemed to glow in shades of purple like the morning sky.  Surely she was a fairy, and yet she didn’t have wings… never had wings, he reminded himself.  But, aren’t you a fairy?  I’m not a fairy.  But, I think I could fly once – at least I dreamed that I could.  He quirks his head like a dog, in a confused manner.  Offering her a lopsided grin, he circles her once, looking her over as if to try and determine exactly what she was.  If she wasn’t a fairy, perhaps she was a princess or something…. Surely, she wasn’t just a regular horse like him.

Still, he knows it’s rude to stare.  Sorry… I don’t mean to stare.  You’re just so beautiful.  What’s your name?  The boy’s voice is tinged with appreciation – not the same sort of adoration that a suitor would put on his conquest, but more that of a child whispering to a Disneyland princess.  He was simply in awe.  I’m Pan, by the way… and this is Oliver. As if on queue, a furry brown head popped out of his satchel, chirruping to the mare with a pleasant sort of greeting.  The two are a quirky pair, though well fitting for one another’s company.

All around them, the trees shivered with the autumn breeze.  Birch leaves flashed silver in the sunlight, and a couple fell like snowflakes down to them.  Pan stops to gather one or two, reaching into his satchel to draw forth a large tome, flipping through the pages and pressing the leaves between them.  Looking up at the mare, he offers something of an explanation.  I like to collect beautiful things, so I can look at them when it’s winter time and I can’t go outside.  And, I’m collecting plants around Novus.  Want to see?  Flipping back through the tome, he pointed out a couple of crude plant drawings to the unicorn.

Flying is pure freedom, he answers without hesitation, Like there’s nothing to hold you down and you can go anywhere your heart desires.  You can swim in the clouds, or dive like a speeding arrow… and the wind will catch you every time.  Of course, it was clear to see the boy didn’t have wings either, but perhaps in some world – once, with a bit of magic – he could fly.  Those days were long behind him though, lost with Neverland to the shifting rift tide.  Still, it was a lovely sort of dream, that Pan could imagine each and every time he closed his eyes.  Thinking of it now, the boy offered her an easy smile.  

As he presses the leaves into his book, the boy corrects her.  Oh no… I didn’t draw these.  I can’t draw well either…  shifting the pages, he showed her a much less refined drawing, crude and roughly sketched with what looked like a spent piece of charcoal.  Maybe mine will get better though… I’m told if you practice, you can do anything.  If Pan was embarrassed, he didn’t show it – the boy simply flipped back to the previous pages and continued his explanation.  

I lived in the Dawn Court before too… and I found this book in the library.  It never occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t have taken it, but he didn’t really remember taking it in the first place.  He had simply found it again upon stumbling across his treasure cave, picking up where he left off with finding the herbs within the tome’s pages.  They would understand, when he had a collection built up for the use by healers across Novus.  It was, after all, for a good cause.

What kind of music?  Can you sing me something?  She was one of several horses he’d met recently who mentioned music, and Pan found himself turning a bit green with jealousy – for though he would never let himself appear embarrassed, he knew that he could no more carry a tune than fly in this world.  Still, it didn’t keep him from belting out his pirate songs at the top of his lungs.  After all, where was the fun in going through life with hesitation and worry.