Chapter 1: The Origins of the Fairies, Their Division, and of the Great Wyrm War.
A single silhouette danced in a mountain’s stream, the cold of the night and the chill of the rushing water nipped longingly at her pale skin. A damp mist hung low on the mountain’s side across the moist loam that spread across the forested area of the mountain, hiding this lovely visage just out of view from any passers by.
The smell of damp earth, of pine hung low and sap dripping from the snapped pine and oak and maple branches; the smell of an early-spring forest after a tumultuous rainstorm permeated the night air.
This silhouette seemed a feature in this scenery; as the flora and the fauna seeme to abide by her, welcomed her, as if she were on of their own, or if held captive by her swaying, her twirling: her dance.
The moonlight shone through the branches of the surrounding pines in translucent ribbons; each droplet of water of the white mist and of the dew hanging on the grass, drooping each blade of grass, captured the pale light, refracting and reflecting the light so that they shown around the dancing figure as if an invisible spotlight shown on, or around her, the faintest glimmer of light shining off of the constantly moving surface of the mountain’s stream that the figure danced tantalizingly in.
A mountain’s breeze shook the pine and the oak, and the sycamore branches, rustling the leaves and the pines and above it all the song of the night birds; the owls, the nightingales, the True Owls and the False Owls, singing in a beautiful cacophony all creating a beautiful, cacophonous melody, accompanying the dancing figure in the water of the mountain streams.
If we could see through the branches, the mist, the night and the brush we would see a young doe, lapping slowly at the water of the stream, her spots newly fading and her tan fur darkened by the low hanging mist. We would see a red-fox vixen feeding her newborn yipping pups in a shallow burrow created by her mate for this occasion, her blood and the mud still clung to her red fur. We would see a brazen brown bear batting hungrily at the leaping salmon by a nearby waterfall, looking for a good breakfast, all of them stopping every now and then to watch the dancing figure in the stream, without interrupting, without pause, all of them watching.
