Awakening

On the plains, Lyndis never weeps. She does not scrub her eyes or hide her face, nor is she ever lost in silence.

Instead, she sings—she sings and the earth expands around her, the meadows tumble outward, unfurling, unraveling, grass swelling in the open places. A hint of sunlight touches the horizon, crowning the land, and she is made the meandering heart of a stretch of windswept gold: she’s small on those plains, running, arms close to her side, ponytail streaming, to the horizon, to its promise, to the end... She has no limits now.

Lady Lyndis never weeps.

A/N: Happy Birthday, Manna! Here’s to CCLL, eh?