—Cerridwen, would you look at this?

A red horse with crippling white from the barrel was lying, resembling a cat bun; not high, thin grass rustled beside her hot body. And a cup of freshly brewed warm tea was steaming before her. Wet hair stuck to the body, a reminder of foam spread like white filigree on red. Steam and get both from her and her new acquaintance climbed up into the cloudy skies. Violets, rosemary, and lavender came in handy earlier than she thought. The magic kettle, found a day before, boiled water without fire. Cerridwen has already figured out who she can gift it to. The magicians of the buried kingdom knew a lot about amenities!

—I think it reminds me of something—she fell for the bait of her thoughts again and got distracted.

—I mean, it looks very much like your coat of arms. If you have it engraved and glazed on your brooch—keen eye for beauty.

— Oh, this is my mum; she gave it to me. She always says I bring luck. But it’s different colours? I think… at least.

— Yes, sweet pea, everything here is one colour, the colour of moors, withered or ether metal or bone, even if they are the same. — What a sweetie, she smiled to herself. He was so young. Risen by the dungeon and tempered in the forge. Yet much younger than her, she saw the shadow of his parents in his features, the burning eyes of his father and his mother’s smiling freckles. She was always happy to see new blood in the dungeons; the magic of this place was building beautiful travellers. Maybe a little flattering on the tongue in this case, but if without malicious intent, it’s fine, right? When they finally stopped escaping the fog, the first thing he did was compliment her beauty. Completely conquered by the beauty, he poured compliments without shame and conscience. And she kept the mask on her face until it was shattered into pieces by a laugh. And thanked him with tea, and they shared the rest.

— Oh, well, maybe there once was a course and a knight, and they both were as lucky as me. —He smiled, then scratched behind the ear of a black cat that managed to fall asleep on his shoulders. — Finders keepers, I’ll keep it closer to myself, maybe Miss Fortune will like me twice as much. — Cerridwen giggled, she thought it might be hard to like them more. How much more exactly? Both she and a cat were purring, charmed away by Trefoils.