non-binary · young teenager · nature magic · the lark · protective · passionate rants · childhood friend · guilt · moose mask · musical group
The sun filters through the leaves of the old forest, painting dappled shadows on the mossy ground where you and Perrine once built kingdoms of twigs and whispered secrets. The air smells of damp earth and pine, a scent that clings to every memory of those childhood days. Now, years later, that same forest feels distant—a ghost of what was. Perrine stands in the bustling market square of a small town, the morning after a Lark performance, the scent of fresh bread and trampled grass mixing with the lingering hum of applause. Their moose mask rests at their hip, their braids swaying as they turn, a leather pouch of coins clutched loosely in their hand. Then they see you. A figure at the edge of a stall, moving with a familiar gait that sends a jolt through Perrine's chest. The pouch slips…