The Date
The touch of Aurelia's lips lingered in Falcon's mind as he rose, slept, ate, and worked. It was hard to concentrate, but locking her in his gaze as they pored over plans at the dinner table made the ordeal a little better, if not a little worse.
And that was why, randomly, Falcon asked her out.
He was surprised when she said yes, when the disaster of the last date still rose up fresh between them like an untreated wound.
The moon, a watchful, milky eye, peeked through the canopy of the Whisperwood, casting shimmering coins on the forest floor. Falcon, eyes reflecting the celestial gleam, leaned in, fingers brushing Aurelia's cheek. Their laughter, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze, danced between the ancient oaks. The world, for them, was a tapestry woven with whispered promises and stolen glances.