Baltair breathed deep, smiling as he savored the crisp scent of yet another pleasant spring morning. His tail waved happily behind him, slow and lazy. The cold morning air sent his breath streaming in jets of soft mist, and icy tendrils of frost still clung desperately to everything.

The delicate whispers of the wind carried even the softest of sounds to Baltair's waiting ear. He could hear the stirring of small animals, the gentle hush of foliage, the chirping of eager birds feeding their young. He observed all of this with an easy restfulness, sitting somewhere at the thinnest edge of the Enocra Woodland.

The song she sang came to him faintly at first -- but as he strained to listen, shocked and in disbelief, he could make out the words perfectly. He rose slowly to his feet, turning his head one way and another as he attempted to seek out the direction from which the song had come..

Such a beautiful voice.. and in the tongue of my mother.. How is it possible?

Finally he began to move, guided by the alluring scent of wild rain and young blossoms. He found her, looking elegant and contemplative as she walked easily along, and immediately his heart was lost. He could move no further; his paws stood fast, pressed against the soft earth as if he feared he might fall to pieces if he took even one more step.

Baltair could feel his tail waving gaily, though he was scarcely aware of it. He was, in fact, scarcely aware of anything at all -- anything, that is, except for her. His smile was gentle and dazed, his brows raised with fascination.

"Mornin' lass!" He called softly, fearing that anything much louder than a low flutter would shatter the perfect stillness between them.

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