[open]

[lightningcurse]

The first frost was two nights ago, and Mabon has changed beautifully for the season: his hair is the pure-white of an ermine or a hare, to blend in with what snows will come. His already dark eyes have turned black, and his skin is mottled darks and browns, like leaf mould on the ground

Comments

[topofadmiration]

Miranda looks back at him with polite, cautious interest.

[lightningcurse]

He smiles at her. One of the raccoons snuffs.

[topofadmiration]

She kneels, then, and offers a hand to it.

[lightningcurse]

It ordinarily ought never to go near her but, calmed by Mabon's calmness, it sticks its head over his knee and takes her hands in its tiny ones.

[topofadmiration]

Her face lights up, equal parts delight and awe.

[lightningcurse]

The raccoon smells her thoroughly and then, with a backwards glance at Mabon, climbs into her lap.

[topofadmiration]

"O!" She beams.

[lightningcurse]

Mabon makes another little smile.

[topofadmiration]

"It is yours, sir?" she asks, gently stroking the raccoon's back.

[lightningcurse]

"They are all mine."

[topofadmiration]

"They are lovely."

[lightningcurse]

Generously, "That one may be yours."

[topofadmiration]

"O, I could not!"

[lightningcurse]

He nods. It's fair if people can't. Mabon is not the sort to press gifts.

[topofadmiration]

"But I thank you." She smiles.

[lightningcurse]

Another nod. The raccoon nibbles on her finger without biting.