The wind was warm and sweet, whistling through the field; just strong enough to stir golden strands of hair above a young woman's head. Her eyes; a dreamy shade of azure framed by long, dark lashes were watching the strands dance above her head, with idle interest. The Wind seemed to die, releasing her hair from its whimsical dance. Losing interest at once, Alayna closed her eyes, resting her inky-black lashes against fair skin, just beginning to glow from time spent under the sun.
The red glow behind her eyelids was warm, almost comforting, as she crossed her arms behind her head, letting the long grass tickle her appendages. She sighed, peacefully.
"It's going to rain, soon." A voice cut through Alayna's daydream. Alayna gasped in surprise, her eyes snapping open. She sat up swiftly, to see Arthur's silent Knight, Tristan, standing at the edge of the clearing, the reins of his dappled grey stallion clasped in his hand.
Alayna breathed a sigh of relief, before lifting her gaze up to the sky. "You think?" she mused, idly. Tristan simply nodded. "Such a shame. It's been such a beautiful day." Alayna mused, as she stood, brushing off her skirts. "Good day, Sir Tristan. Thank you for the warning," she murmured, inclining her head in respect to the man, before walking away, heading home towards the fort.
Tristan could not tear his eyes from the young maiden. Her hair, long and golden, was tied back with a worn red ribbon, billowing behind her as the skirts of her faded blue dress swished around her feet.
As Tristan stared, transfixed, that red ribbon slipped loose from its place, fluttering in the growing wind, its absence going unnoticed by Alayna as she walked on. The Scout caught the ribbon in his fingers, staring at the frayed and tattered piece of silk, its condition a testament to the love its owner held for it.
Tristan gazed at it for a long moment, before crushing the ribbon within his fingers, savoring the fresh mint scent that followed.
The next morning, Alayna left her small home to find a shiny new red ribbon tied around the door-handle. She glanced around in abject amazement. Who could possibly know that she had lost her old ribbon?
That same morning Tristan was leaving on mission with his brothers-in-arms, he rode out with that old, tattered ribbon crushed behind his cuirass, held against his heart.
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