Crysta missed Zak, there was no doubt about that. She missed his uniqueness and the fire aflame in his human heart.
But after she accepted her role as Ferngully's new shepherd, Crysta had begun to understand that she could let go of her own home if things had turned out any differently. In the end she had realized in spite of her affections she once held for Zak, she couldn't have lived a mortal life herself. She would miss her people more, and the lullabies of the insects, the roots, and the river running over the sleeping rocks. She'd miss discovering Nature's mysteries and the evolving magic behind it all.
If Zak ever returned for her...she honestly wouldn't choose him now. Her current days spent tending to the animals and flying around with Pips meant more to her than anything else.
This was there she truly belonged.
Perched on another branch high above, Crysta presently watched Pips below as he stroked and healed the broken wing of a red lorikeet. She smiled at the tender sight. Pips could be a faerie of all harsh looks and biting words, but Crysta also knew his intentions were always truer than those things, that his actions spoke volumes louder.
Since the last Springtide, their companionship—like their hearts and minds—was progressing, flourishing like a tree from a seed already planted there layers beneath the surface.
Zak had given Crysta her first kiss, and indeed that had made her happy at the time. Though once Pips' own lips had touched hers for the first time seasons ago, it almost felt like an awakening...one that was very captivating in a way which Crysta hadn't initially expected it to be.
Now it was the Summer Solstice. And hours after their Sunlit Faerie Reel, Pips pressed her up against the hollow wall of bark within the Mother Tree. He clutched the robe she wore for the opening dancing ritual, and apart from the warm air beating around them, Pips could still stimulate heat to course through her veins, spiraling engergy right down to her toes. They caressed and shared long kisses until their auras became visible, one glowing blue and the other emerald, slowly intertwining, burning and feeding the other.
Yet in private, things only went so far for them, as there was a proper time and place for everything.
The Beatles freely made their wages and guesses when it would officially happen, although Crysta had learned to ignore their sniggering a long time ago. Her fellow winged maidens would occasionally shoot knowing grins at her as well, and the fae-children all giggled under their breath whenever they'd see her and Pips hold hands crossing over the glens. Her father knew of their courting for sure, then Batty did, and then the tall water birds did too.
Time continued to pass them. The autumn moon eventually shone through the wild treetops and rose higher into the darkened clear sky. Crysta wanted this particular celebration to be extra superior, perhaps even a bit more bodacious. For most of the faeries her generation weren't so young and inexperienced anymore. They were all reaching the height of their own power by now and exchanged their knowledge as well as any of their elderly scholars could. Crysta stood on top of her large colored toadstool, listening to the wind sing its secrets to them and she listened to the little raindrops lightly spilling over the soil. She tried to envision Magi's faraway spirit being proud of how far they'd come...and from the sudden wave of joy and serenity she felt spreading inside her, Crysta could sense it was true.
Their Harvest Reel that night carried on quite excellently, and when everybody else feasted on their plucked fruits and roasted nuts and started creating music with their flutes, harps, and wood drums, Crysta approached Pips from behind, tapping him on the shoulder, urging him to follow her. His skin was traditionally painted with red and yellow flower extracts to complement the season, while Crysta had weaved and beaded her grown-out hair for the occasion in order to match Magi's respectfully.
She continued to lead Pips past the shimmering pools, dancing through the tiny shadows, beaming at him as she did so. The stars far above flickered through the nooks of the rock; their silvery lights darted down upon Pips scarlet hair, a color which reminded Crysta of simmering embers.
Once they skidded to a stop, Pips leaned in to kiss her. Crysta returned the gesture, already feeling her inner magic respond to his again. She reached for his waist, fingertips delicately tracing his muscles, drawing him closer. Their embrace deepened until the energy building in Crysta's inner core pulsed stronger and revolved faster and faster.
They were moving as one like the sea rippling over Gaia's white sands, faerie flesh, blood, and bone. Crysta closed her eyes in between touches, and his body molded in to fit hers near perfectly amid her thighs.
A bright ring of mixed magic flooded forth from their completion and the leaves around them quivered.
And in the quiet satisfying aftermath of their mating, Crysta apprehended just how connected they were all this time. She knew this had to be real love was. She didn't need to comment on it either. When her head turned to glance at Pips sprawled there beside her, that clever glint in his grassy tinted eyes told her that he already knew what she would have said otherwise. His closest hand raised slightly from the earth and it trailed down arm, to her wrist, until it took hold of hers. Crysta's fingers fondly squeezed his in rely.
They rested there idly until dawn and they returned to the glens to find the others waiting to break fast with them.
So, the previous celebration moved on, gradually fading into the Dormant Season. Ferngully always appeared green and awake with a climate like theirs, but the nights were getting longer and the faerie folk were growing slower, more sluggish, and worked less daylight hours now because of the periodic change. Everyone was rightfully preoccupied with building their slumbering nests. Magi had once told Crysta how the outside world would be fully cloaked by ice by this time.
All Earth Faeries are made to sleep in the depths of Yuletide, she'd say, it is simply our way life.
As Crysta retold Magi's wintery stories to Pips, they prepared their own nest on the branch next to her father's.
Then days later, the entire clan had finally settled themselves inside till Springtide would peak over the mountains once more.
Crysta and Pips could both feel the pull—or rather, the withdraw of Nature's strength—before they fell asleep closely side by side, hands claps together amongst the small orb of bent twigs, blue feathers and soft flower petals.