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Dec. 28th, 2018 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mergich_singerThe snow is late this year.
But then, no two years are ever quite the same; and perhaps things may change even on a grander level than that.
And yet, and still... music rolls in over the mountains tonight: voices on the wind like a choir of sighs, each note a rustle of the trees, a whisper of the waves, and the tiny bass hush of falling snow.
In the morning, the world outside is pristine and glittering with white from mountain to lake to door, the only blemish on the perfect blanket a neat set of large cat pawprints... which, a few steps from the door, turn to very human boots.
There's a woman with unearthly blue eyes standing on the threshold now, her long rosette-spotted fur coat just brushing the ground as she glances over her shoulder at the night's work she's left behind her.
She, of course, like a wizard, is never late.
But then, no two years are ever quite the same; and perhaps things may change even on a grander level than that.
And yet, and still... music rolls in over the mountains tonight: voices on the wind like a choir of sighs, each note a rustle of the trees, a whisper of the waves, and the tiny bass hush of falling snow.
In the morning, the world outside is pristine and glittering with white from mountain to lake to door, the only blemish on the perfect blanket a neat set of large cat pawprints... which, a few steps from the door, turn to very human boots.
There's a woman with unearthly blue eyes standing on the threshold now, her long rosette-spotted fur coat just brushing the ground as she glances over her shoulder at the night's work she's left behind her.
She, of course, like a wizard, is never late.
