He’d - he’d meant the trees; the pink floating petals, the delicious aroma in the air. The butterflies, the moths, the birds - he had meant everything else here and not once had he thought himself as part of the view until that moment.

His tongue flickered tongue in interest, peeking out between his lips as if to nervously taste at the air as his eyes took in the stranger. If this stranger could look at him, then Archon could look too, couldn’t he? He looked like an angel; very nearly pure white - Archon was sure he was made from mist, or a cloud, or something heavenly.

As he spoke, Archon’s brows lifted, as did the curves of his lips, forming into a subtle smile. Well, that makes two of us then, Archon purred, nodding his head slowly, as if he didn’t want to take his eyes off the other - though he eventually did, but not for long.

Every season, like clockwork. Last season, there were caves. Everywhere - nothing can explain them, and I’m beginning to wonder if they appear in the same places. Guess I’ll have to mark this spot.. Somehow, and find out, next season - whatever that may bring. I’m Archon. Who’re you, little dove?