Shols were, Zeal noted, astonishingly light on their feet and lithe besides.
They were holed up for the night, and his charge had been stricken by a bought of homesickness. But one of many, as of late.
The little Shol's yearning, though kept to himself, was all but evident in his furtive glances and vague stares, the slight mentions, or how all his thoughts seemed to drift towards past memories of his beloved Bræmbel Ring.
A Circle that though unmentioned, whose presence he was very clearly aware and felt bereft of.
It was then that Lockes had drawn the younger Shol in with the beginnings of a song. When little Vye picked up the tune, the severed Shol threw in a twist of light footwork and a graceful whirl.
Fiddleheads swirling around them, the Bluepine reached out and grasped Vye's hand, pulling them to fall into step.
Vye was far too naive, too young to see it for what it was. The lengths that Lockes and Zeal went to for his benefit. A thankless job, certainly, to be a caretaker.
Yet Vye was not so foolish in his youth as to squander it.
A mere distraction it may have been to the Bræmbel Shol, a coincidental break and nothing more, but one Vye is grateful for nonetheless.
So they danced late into the night, twirling and singing in the Heart's Song.
Seeing his ward's delight and fully diverted attention, Zeal decided that they were well and would continue to be so without him skulking about like a wary hawk.
With a relieved groan, Zeal took leave and allowed the tension of the day to ease from a body fraught with tolls far more draining than simple physical exhaustion.
There would be plenty of that to go around in the coming months, and a great pleasure should they not.
