"Tilion steers on strange paths tonight," she murmured. "I have never felt such light on my skin, as thick as water, and so bright, it's better than a lantern."
Shadows of leaves danced over his face like lace. She traced their movements with the tips of her fingers.
"Of what are you thinking?"
"That Tilion may light his chariot well tonight, but even so, it does not reach all things. 'Tis an abyss beneath us."
She drew her hand away, turning restlessly in the circle of his arms. "Only you would see something grim and fanciful in a few close-growing mellyrn."
"I did not say there was aught grim in it. It makes me feel…suspended, somehow, lighter, to know that there is a plunge."
"I still say you are fanciful."
He laughed against her shoulder. "Then teach me to be practical, as you are."