Apocryphal Knells
Musings Ten
Butterfly Dip
"I swear, all these flickering flyers are making me sneeze, Zelsuric."
Obviously, Halma was not amused by Macalania Woods' wonders. From itsy to bitsy, something left in each butterfly's wake was making Halma sneeze. Such tiny particles glittered my hands and nose. Colonies of them rested on a submerged tree's trunk. Macalania Lake was a wonder to behold.
Not to fall into. Halma was so overcome, he'd tripped over a root and sent us both into frigid waters.
Wet curls resembled extinguished flames. One more sneeze escaped.
"I hope you don't catch a cold, Halma," I coo laughingly, combing them.
