He saw her every morning when he headed in for work, and to be honest, it was the only reason he looked forward to leaving the warmth of his bed at all as of late. It was too damn cold out.

Her hair was the color of fresh apple blossoms in the month of May – a pink blush with the warmth of the vernal sunshine. Milling about in the snow with her long parka and earmuffs, she was a breath of spring in this cold, dreary gray winter.

And that was probably the way she saw him, he realized with a sigh as he pulled on his gloves that morning. Dreary. Drab. Gray. That was his name, after all.

He forced a small grin on his face, waved goodbye to his roommate and pulled the door closed behind him, straightening the cap on his head as he did so. The smile faded from his mouth as he made his way down the creaky wooden stairs. His new roommate seemed to be particularly quiet and pensive with the latest snowfall, and he had caught the young man with tear-stained cheeks on more than one occasion. The one time the apprentice confronted him about it, brown-haired man had muttered quietly that he didn't want to talk about it. Who was Gray to force someone into speaking about an uncomfortable subject anyway? He wasn't even keen on talking about his own feelings.

His boots crunched through the freshly fallen snow and squeaked as he headed to the south. The snowflakes were large this morning and fell at a slow pace. A blanket of fresh snow was quickly covering the sleepy little town, and the young man was grateful that he didn't have to walk too far. There were few things that would make him stop in weather like this; he wasn't particularly fond of snow.

He halted.

There she was, exactly where she was expecting her to be – wandering about in the entrance of the poultry farm with a basket of feed laced on her arm, talking to her brother.

Rick was adjusting the stocking cap on his head. "I'm off to do some shopping. Can you handle things alright while I'm gone? Mom went back to bed, and I don't want you to wake her. Again, make sure that the chicken coop is firmly latched before-"

Popuri cut him off, and Gray was surprised at her harsh tone. He had never heard her voice sound like that before. "I've been doing this for nearly as long as you, y'know! I know what to do!"

"Well, I just don't feel like chasing down another chicken today. A white hen will be hard to see in all of this snow."

The young woman sighed. "I've got it, Rick." Her voice sounded less than enthusiastic as she shifted her basket onto her other side.

Her brother said nothing in reply and turned to leave. Upon seeing Gray walk by, he gave the young man a nod in greeting. He was met with a soft grunt and tip of the hat in reply. As the male poultry farmer headed north, Gray stole a glance at the young woman. Popuri's hands were tucked into her pockets with the basket looped on the crook of her arm.

"Good morning." Her soprano was smooth and creamy, a lovely contrast to the cold, barren landscape he was staring at. He noted that her tone was much more pleasant than the one she used with her brother. The young man could feel his ears turning hot; he couldn't help but wonder if she reserved that voice for him.

"'Morning," he stammered in reply.

He was met with a musical giggle in response. The Harvest Goddess herself could not have a lovelier voice. The young man shook the blasphemous thoughts from his head. "Morning? Just 'morning'? Is it good, or bad, or what?" She let out a soft chuckle as she coyly walked back to the chicken coop. He didn't realize she was silently asking him to follow her – his feet had already obeyed.

"It's alright. An alright morning," he answered honestly as he tugged on the bill of his cap. Why was it that he yearned to speak with her, yet his words always came out wrong?

She mulled over his word choice as she stroked her chin. "An alright morning…?"

He gave her a shrug in response as he felt the color creep across his face, and it wasn't from the cold.

"Shrugging? That's a very noncommittal gesture," she teased with a soft laugh. She tossed her pink locks over her shoulder and wagged a finger at him with a smirk. "And so is using the word 'alright' to describe something." She frowned when she saw the young man shrink back a bit. Popuri had been trying to get more words out of the apprentice blacksmith lately, but he seemed intent on refusing to open up to her. He had an air of mystery about him in his aloof mannerisms and she would be lying if she said it didn't intrigue her a little.

Gray said nothing in defense for his selection of words. He scrambled to change the subject. "So, uh… what do you think of this winter, eh?" he immediately hated his feeble attempts at a proper dialogue. Talking about the weather? How more clichéd can one get? He bit the inside of his lip as punishment. Still, he was very curious as to what her answer would be. After all, winter was dull and glum; winter was Gray.

She led the way to the chicken coop and opened the door. One hen began to bolt from the building, but she shoved the bird back in with a use of force he didn't think she was capable of. She slammed the door and whirled around, a few strands of her cotton candy locks messed up from her fluffy earmuffs. The pretty young woman looked up at the sky, blinking her large scarlet eyes as a large snowflake landed on the tip of her nose. "This winter? I think it's beautiful." She gave him a warm smile.

The young man was sure that his pleased grin looked more like a grimace than anything else. The heat rising in his cheeks certainly didn't help things. It wasn't as if she had complimented him. "You mean it's not gloomy to you?" Why would the incriminating words not stop spilling out of his mouth?

She shook her head so emphatically that her earmuffs shifted. She steadied them with a pair of mittened hands. "How could someone see this as gloomy?" She stared at the wonderland around them.

He tugged on the bill of his cap and his gaze drifted to the bare trees. "Well, everything's dead, for one…" He silently cursed himself. Why must he always play the role of devil's advocate?

Popuri folded her arms across her chest and pouted, staring up at the clouds. "I don't think of it as dead. The earth needs to rest, just like all of us. It's a time to recharge. Dad used to refer to it as the Harvest Goddess's naptime, and the soft sounds of snowflakes falling on ice and the icicles jingling as they fall are her lullaby…" Popuri turned a bright shade of pink as her focus moved to the ground. "It must sound pretty stupid to you, huh? Mom always goes on about how poetic Dad was…"

He shook his head. "It doesn't sound stupid." Gray rubbed his gloved hands together and breathed on them to warm them.

The poultry farmer looked deep in thought. She buried her hands in her pockets and rocked back and forth on her heels and the balls of her feet. "So, Gray… do you have plans for Starry Night? It's next week, you know."

"Eh… Probably spend it with Gramps again in the forge." That meant a hot sit-down meal and his grandfather would be insistent that he remove his hat while eating. The young man sighed; he would have to actually comb his hair.

"Well?" Popuri looked at him imploringly.

He looked at the young woman in confusion. "Huh?"

She clasped her hands together and wrung them a little anxiously. "I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, but you're welcome to come over here. It will be me, Mom, Rick and Karen."

The offer was tempting… He pulled the bill on his hat to conceal his eyes. "I-I don't want to make Gramps to spend it alone. He has no one else since Grandma died years ago."

She gave him a playful smile. "What do you think of eggs?"

Again, he wasn't sure what the young woman was driving at. "They're…" he stopped himself from using the a-word: alright. "I-I mean… I like them just fine."

A smirk played at her pretty, shapely lips. "Great! It's settled then! I'll bring some spa boiled eggs and a rolled omelette. How does that sound?"

Once more, words eluded him. He nodded dumbly in response.

He was late for work. Gray slipped into the smithy and closed the door behind him quietly. Upon turning around, he nearly collided with his grandfather who was stoically standing in the doorway. The apprentice silently cursed himself, waiting for his scolding. The old man stared at him with an emotionless face. "She takes good care of her mother." Saibara gave the young man a slight nod before whirling around and walking back to his anvil, hammering away.

Gray shrugged his shoulders and pulled off his coat, preparing for work.

0o0o0o0

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy your belated gift, Fading Butterfly Wings! This is a multi-chapter story and I'll have the next portion up for you real soon!