let's be wildflowers
It had been winter when he had left his Court, and now the world was immersed in the heat of summer. He had seen Novus go from snow-capped to sun-baked, had watched new life spring forth from snow and fires alike. He wasn’t sure anymore how much of his time had been spent on the island, chasing gods and reveling in magic, only that it had been enough time.
Ipomoea had seen dead rulers and exiled princes, had watched ghosts dance in the flames of a bonfire and followed a deer with golden antlers. He had heard the cries of a people oppressed, a people without a leader.
He had walked beside a queen born from the sea and a king formed from the stars. Two sovereigns who had come together in kind to fight for freedom not only for their own Courts, but for all of Novus. It was not lost on him which leader was missing, and still he stayed. Still he had gone to the island and searched, day and night, for gods, for relics, for dead men walking. For answers.
He wasn’t sure, in the end, if he had received any of those things.
But there was a steadiness to his gaze now that had not been present when he left Delumine. And when he walked it was with a newfound sureness that he was moving in the right direction. The rosewood dagger fixed against his foreleg, too, was held in place with a comfortable ease, a confidence he never before would have held a weapon with.
Sunlight streamed down through the canopy overhead, the leaves turning the light itself pale and green. Ipomoea walked amongst the trees like they were his old friends, and in a way, they were. He had always loved the forest, loved the steadiness of the trees and the ancient feel of their thoughts. His mind brushed against them as he passed, and through them he could feel the warmth of the sun on the bark, the gentle wind that tousled their leaves like hair. He could feel the water in the earth around their roots, and the dripping of the sap filled the cuts where a bramblebear had sharpened her claws against the bark. Ipomoea smiled to himself, weaving slowly along the twisted forest path.
The sun had passed overhead when he heard a familiar twang in the distance. Interest piqued, he started towards the noise, as muffled thumps followed. He did not bother to conceal himself - he was home now. The forest was his guardian.
The girl was surprisingly small, but she held the bow with a practiced ease. He did not recognize her - and he had to quickly brush away the color of sadness that formed in his breast at the realization. I don’t know her yet, he reminded himself, and walked forward to intercept her.
“Hello,” he called out softly, an easy smile slipping onto his lips. “Do you mind a bit of company?”
