Eddi stood, out on the balcony. She was silent, the air wasn't. Crickets created a pulse, a steady and soothing murmur that seeped up out of the ground and wrapped around her like a cocoon. Slowly, softly, she began to sway in time with the insectoid song. Her kimono robe swished around her as she moved slowly back and forth, adding a whispery beat. Tapping her right foot gently as she flowed from side to side, Eddi began to sing.

The melody seemed wordless, a timeless tune whose meaning was covered in subtle shades. A small child could have understood her soothing voice, the peaceful notes in a tranquil melody, yet Mozart himself would have had cause to wonder at the subtle inflections, giving each chord between herself and the crickets below a slightly different emotion.

Slowly, her voice swelled. It had been sweet and innocent at the outset, but the notes were rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and a ragged edge of desperation seemed to fuel the song upward. The sheer volume of it seemed to fill the air, till there was nothing left to breathe. The oxygen had been pushed out completely by the intensity of the music.

Far below the balcony, the grass itself seemed to dance. A closer glance revealed the truth: diminutive fey, brilliant green and less than a foot tall, were performing an elaborate dance. Their gossamer wings fluttered lightly as they moved. Most were all but flying through the air, and a few actually were. Their long manes of hair fell around them, growing from their heads and darting about, a step behind them. All the while, Eddi was oblivious. She sang for her and her alone.

Eddi's voice was raw and edgy, the low notes sounding throaty and feline. She growled, she cawed like a crow, she challenged the very night to dance along. And it did.

She froze without warning, midsyllable. The wordless melody just stopped, the small dancers so far away froze midstep. A few had to use their wings just to halt their motion. Even the crickets were silent. She began to speak again, something that sounded like a Gregorian chant, barely a whisper. The crickets gave Eddi her solo, almost totally bowing to her will. The fey were straining to hear her voice, standing on tiptoe and starting to flutter upwards.

The melody slowly built, rising in expression, volume, pitch. Her voice was sweeter and sweeter, her notes rising into mezzo soprano, the sound increasing until it was a clarion call, growing and growing with every beat. Then, with a final high note that resonated through the night air, the air was silent once more. After a minute or two, the crickets resumed their chirping, the fey faded off into the underbrush, and the night was ordinary once more.