Picnyx

Crrrrrunch, scrrrrrunch, zingggg… Aveline slowly stirred and yawned. She sleepily lifted her head from the pillow and glanced around with bleary eyes. Her neighbor was up early this morning. She sighed and yawned again, willing herself to emerge from her cocoon and stretch. The smell of spindleberry blossoms greeted her as she ambled into the kitchen for breakfast. She must have forgotten to close the window before bed, as the curtains above the counter drifted lazily inward with the breeze. She swept the curtains aside and paused to take in her surroundings. It was gorgeous out. The fluffy, pink trees were covered in delicate white blooms. With every gust, the breeze sent petals dancing down through the air. Had it been four months already? After hunkering down through miasma season, she couldn’t bring herself to return home. It was like a fairy tale. There was a certain draw to eternal spring. Faerindell’s pastel forests and rolling fields full of flowers were quite the contrast to