The grass will be fresh in the morning, shining in the shy sun, dressed in dew and drops of rain, but that sight is not for now, as the night still needs our attention. You pretend to sleep against my chest, holding tighter every now and again as rain hammers the windows, and your favourite…

Swept up in spiteful cyclones as Summer sends her best regards, the morning brings malicious madness, and not a hint of mercy. Winter winds have been waiting for my weakness, watching me emerge from my cave like a confused cub, gleeful grins and giggles as I stumble towards the sun, reborn after my rest, but…

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Her father didn’t light the flames, they had burned since he began, and he watched the embers, with a tender eye, waiting for his precious progeny to emerge.