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“…Mymzy, Myrtle, Myra, Moss, Mildew- goodness it’s been awhile since I’ve seen him. Still in Brazil seeing that beautiful lara creature I suspect.” said the Mymble, walking down the path while counting on her right paw, “Where did I leave off?…Oh! Then there’s Mirth, Mymda, Misty, Maple, Finch-”
“Finch?” interrupted the Joxter, walking alongside her, “Well, that doesn’t start with an ‘m’…Did you mean to say Mynch?”
“Oh! No no-”, she laughed, “Little Finchy never liked the name I gave him. Ever since he could talk, he wouldn’t listen to me or Mym if we ever called for him.” The Mymble relaxed her paw and thought contently, “Until one day, I took a herd of my children out for a walk, and we came across a little nest of goldfinches resting in the treetops. He was absolutely enamored by them. And well, he decided then and there:
She imitated a high, young voice: “Call me Finch, please! I like that name and it’s mine now! No one else’s!” She chuckled, “And the rest is history!”
Although Joxter intended to hang on to every word she said, he found himself lost. Spellbound by her beauty. And how could one ignore such a creature, he thought. Her sparkling green eyes glimmered like emeralds underneath the moonlight. Her gorgeous round figure was draped in violet and white, save for her dainty brown mink. Her smile was a beacon. She was so magnetic with that smile, with its rosy full lips, always laughing and talking. Talking…just like it was talking right now. Oh. Oh dear, she was talking to him. Something about her son and birds…
“Good thing he didn’t see a Dodo bird.”, the Joxter said smoothly, without missing a beat.
At that, the Mymble clamped her mouth shut, stifling laughter, “Ha-Ha! Well, that would be a slight problem.”
Between her giggles, a fond smile appeared, catching the Joxer off guard, “For more reasons than one.”
The two creatures took a moment and stared at each other, totally enamored by each other’s presence. It felt like hours, yet the moon continued to hang still and silent, watching the lovers in the cool nightly air. Suddenly, Joxter heard a sudden exclamation far away and remembered where he was for the first time that night,
“Mymble.” he looked at the path behind him, “Do you think the children noticed we’ve gone?”
“Most certainly.” She said, her gaze still fixed on the man, “Don’t worry, they know best to behave and not wander off, Mym would let me know.” She gently took Joxter’s chin and pulled his face to meet her eyes again.
“Do you think your Crew noticed we’ve gone too?” she asked innocently. Joxter’s pale cheeks flared into a deep red as he looked at her,
“N..No, I-I don’t think they’ve noticed either.”
“Then we’re fine.”The Mymble lowered her hand and continued down the path, “Follow me now, we’re almost there.”
Joxter, with his eyes glazed over and a dizzy smile spreading his lips, followed the Mymble up ahead. The night was young and full of merriment. The two lovers had snuck off from the festivities; the music and uproar were merely echoes heard far, far away. Last time the Joxter saw them, The Muddler was busy showing the Fuzzy his button collection while Hodgkins chewed the ear off of King Daddy Jones. Moomintroll was likely busying himself with the feasts and lucious drinks. And most likely boasting about rescuing that Fillyjonk woman. And surrounding them all, the rest of the colony and other creatures danced about, gleefully rejoicing and praising the King and all his goodness.
The elder Mymble and the Joxter did not take part in the celebration. Instead, they found solitude in the woods. Finding company with the moon and the fireflies. After the two had met and chatted for a bit, Mymble wanted to show him something, something she found after arriving at the King’s birthday party. The two talked as they traveled on the path, bordered by blue periwinkles, waving hello in the eventide wind. Mymble went on about her life while the Joxter listened, lapping up every word.
“A tavern you say?” the vagabond inquired, his blue eyes lighting up, “That sounds perfect for you. Why on earth did you abandon it?”
“Oh, it was a tough decision. ” the Mymble replied, “But sometimes, I find that I can’t stand staying in the same place. It drives me mad. I yearn to move on, and start something new. Live somewhere else with my children and see new places, meet new people!”
“I know what you mean.” he said, nodding his head, “It’s in my blood to seek out other worlds, meet new people, travel alone. I’ve seen many places in my lifetime and there are many more to come.”
“Oooh!” The Mymble cried, making the Joxter jump, “You know, I’ve never really talked to a Mumrik before.” She fixed her green eyes on the vagabond imploringly,
“Please! Tell me what you’ve seen out there! What’s happening in this great big world of ours?”
The Joxter slowed down his steps, giving the woman a vacant stare. Her eager smile bore into him oh so brightly. But he couldn’t let her in. Not just yet…
“Fuss and misery, my dear.” he replied nonchalantly.
The Mymble raised her brow, “Oh? What makes you say that?”
The Joxter shrugged, “Reasons. Mainly authority and order.”, he kicked a pebble with the tip of his boot, “Those Hemulic fools…And I’m not just talking about the trolls.” He remained silent, looking between the sea of trees before him. He wasn’t angry, no not at all. He was simply stating a fact. A fact he wholeheartedly believed.
“Go on, love.” he heard her voice say.
It was so gentle and sweet, it made Joxter’s heart hurt and his fur curl up. He turned more away from her now, reaching in his pocket for his pipe. Maybe this was a mistake; he knew he had it in him to change the subject, to ignore her question, or just spout a morbid story. But he couldn’t bring himself, not to her.
“Well, I see what you mean.”, Mymble said, breaking the silence, “I knew plenty of Hemulens in my life and they really can be a dapper on your day.” As she said this, Joxter took the pipe and pouch from his coat pocket and placed the bit in his mouth. He opened the bag and hummed in agreement with her.
“Ah, that’s better.”
Joxter turned whilst trickling the tobacco into his bowl and nearly swallowed his pipe at what he saw.
“Forgive me for griping, but these locks can hurt after a while. Let the curls loose, haha!”, the Mymble laughed, fanning out her hair.
They were rays of the sun; all red and wavy, tickling her chin and resting placantly over her mink. She straightened the parting and made sure none had curled around her horns. He didn’t know how but her hair glowed in the moonlight even more, her emerald eyes now more illuminating. She was the most beautiful troll he’s ever seen, she was so remarkable, she was-
“A little to the right dear.”
“Right?” The Joxter repeated, feeling his face turning red again.
“Well your right anyways, I don’t think the flowers like tobacco.” she remarked playfully. Joxter blinked, awoke from his trance and looked down. Ah. It appears he was peppering the ground, hoping a tobacco tree would sprout. He watched his paw casually release his leaves onto the periwinkles below him. His pipe balanced it’s tip by his bottom length as he held it agape. Completely stupefied.
“No, perhaps they don’t.” he muttered as he put his pouch and hands in his pocket, feeling embarrassed. His head suddenly snapped up; Embarrassed?! A Joxter feel embarrassed? That certainly can’t be, especially not in front of someone as splendid as the Mymble. She was casting quite the spell, but he knew he had a few of his own tricks up his sleeves.
“No! Perhaps they don’t!” he repeated more proudly. He adjusted the empty pipe in his mouth and stood up straighter, “And might I say you look positively beautiful with your hair down like that. Radiant beams…” He gleamed a teasing smile, “…on a shimmering sun.”
The Mymble’s cheeks turned rosy, giggling through her teeth.
“Why, thank you.” She placed a paw on her warm face, “I usually don’t let it down that often. But tonight just felt like the perfect time I suppose.”
“Interesting. Well, tell me dear Mymble.” He tapped his chin.
“Why do you suppose that’s the case?” the Joxter asked, tilting his head. The woman blushed deeper and turned to hide herself in her mink.
“Oh, no reason…” she replied sheepishly. The mumrik got down on one knee and placed his red hat over his chest.
“Well this is sudden!” the Mymble chuckled, “In my past experience, it’s usually after the second or third date when they get to this part.”
“I’m not surprised. Any man or woman should be considered lucky to even grace your presence, let alone propose.”
“And, are you..?”
“I’m not the type, sad to say.” The Joxter replied. He slyly picked a flower from behind his heel.
“Neither am I.” the Mymble said as she surveyed him up and down. She began to approach him closer now as the Joxter continued,
“But perhaps I can bestow something else than a ring?” He rose to his feet as she came closer and closer, “Another form of decoration, for a beautiful maiden?”
“Oh is that right?” she replied. She was before him now, towering over his small figure.
“If you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
In one graceful stride, the Mymble bowed her head and got down one knee and closed her eyes. She was so near to his face that he caught a faint whiff of gingerbread. He smiled. Gently, he tucked the blue flower behind her right ear.
“There we are.”
Mymble rose and poofed her hair, blushing, “How does it look?”
Joxter was about to reply until he noticed something…off about her new head dress. The petals appeared dirty and smudged. And it looks like it was peppered with…Oh..oh dear.
“Joxter?” the Mymble asked as she adjusted the flower, “What’s the matter, darling?”
The Mumrik decided best not to say anything. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice; but then again why did he care? So what if she saw? He did as he pleased and yet every move he made mattered when it came to her. He didn’t care for anyone’s opinion unless it was hers. But why? Was he going mad? Is this what love did to Joxters?
Throughout all of these various internal crises, the traveler didn’t realize he left Mymble with nothing but an idle stare to talk to. Mymble gave the man a concerned look as she fiddled with her gift. The petals shook and bits of tobacco fell to the top of her furry nose. With her finger, she traced it off and sniffed it. She geared up for a sneeze, which made Joxter yelp. He frantically began climbing on her coat to reach her nose and she bursted into laughter.
“Kidding! Kidding!” Mymble cried, taking Joxter’s paws in her own. He froze as she looked into his big blue eyes. A sincere smile spread her lips,
“It’s beautiful, darling. Thank you.”
Suddenly, her eyes sparkled with an idea. She folded Joxter’s paws to his chest, still frozen and his whiskers standing straight out. The woman bent down to the ground. She lifted her heel and with an “ah!” she plucked a blue flower that had sadly been smooshed and held it up proudly. It was trampled of course, the petals were flattened, one had a tear, and it was missing one or two petals. But the jolly Mymble paid no mind as she put the floret into the breast pocket of Joxter’s coat. The Mymble tinkered with it so it stood up, making another petal fall in the process. Joxter exchanged glances between the beautiful woman and his own decoration. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t know whether to apologize, give thanks, or ask her to kiss him right now. His heart was racing fast, faster than he’s ever felt before. Faster than the countless chases from policemen, faster than the thrill of breaking into a stuffy Fillyjonk’s home.
I must be dying, he thought. He was a clueless man, but he was aware that this feeling wasn’t due to a Foreboding. No, it was Love. Real Love. And he was frightened beyond all belief. He wasn’t prepared for this at all.
Instead of a reply, Joxter nodded and patted his flower fondly, hoping she’d understand. She giggled. She reached for his paw again and continued to lead him down the path towards this secret destination. The Mymble’s paw felt so warm (or was it his paw? He couldn’t tell anymore). But because these feelings were so foreign to him, a sudden urge bubbled within mumrik. An urge to protect himself and disappear. He quickly shielded his face with his hat, hoping that he wouldn’t trip on his feet. He needed to pull himself together. Usually it was him pulling the smooth moves and the flirts, and all the bells and whistles that came with it. Joxters never feel bashful, he never had such extreme feelings for anyone before. Oh lord, love was changing him into a Muddler or a Whomper or a-
“You silly man!” He felt them stop in their tracks. A paw lowered his shield and the mumrik met her kind face again.
“Are you playing a game?” she asked, batting her eyes.
“We could!” he replied. He lowered his voice and smiled, “How does peek-a-boo sound?”
“Ooh, that sounds fun! Is there a catch?”
“Besides you?”
The Mymble erupted into giggles once more as her crimson cheeks appeared yet again. Still got it, Joxter thought relieved.
“Maybe next time. Because look darling! Surprise!” Before Joxter could even process what she meant by “next time”, the large woman stood back and revealed to him: a tree. Just a plain, spindly tree. Its branches stuck out like an elder’s hand, covered in knots and aged wood. There wasn’t a scrap of life on that tree. In fact you could say-
“It’s dead.” He said bluntly, examining it from head to toe. He noticed that they were accompanying the tree on a lonely hill, the forest a bit behind them now, and the colony field below them.
“Yes, the poor thing is past her prime.” The Mymble replied sadly. She approached it and rubbed her paw along the dark bark and carvings, “I think she used to be an apple tree.”
Joxter’s ears pricked up, “I love apples!” He drew near the tree’s side, “Then she was a great tree. One that I would love no more than to spend the rest of my days in.”
“You wish to live in an apple tree?” the Mymble asked.
“Of course!” he exclaimed. He saw that a branch rested just above the tip of his hat. With both his arms, he reached and pushed up and down; it was firm and steady. Surprising for such a dead thing.
“Bathed in sunshine, free from any worries or responsibilities…” Clinging to the branch, the Joxter hoisted himself up from the ground. He swung his legs over the wood and sat upright, looking down on the Mymble, “..and surrounded by bountiful fruit. I dream about it all the time.”
The Mymble hummed to herself, “That does sound rather nice.” She sat herself down by the base of the tree, resting against it,
“Oh, would you look at that view!” she exclaimed. Joxter tore his gaze and looked up; what a view indeed. Far in the distance was the festival, and the two felt as high and mighty as King Daddy Jones looking above them all. The strung-up lanterns complimented the starry night sky, as it basked the festivities in warm, inviting light. The many animals and creatures were having a blast, emitting such joy and bliss that even the Boobles underneath the sea could hear them. Many were dancing vigorously to the fast paced tunes of the Hemulic Band. Most of them were helping themselves to all the palm wine and cakes that kept replenishing almost out of thin air. His eye caught the Muddler, his cheeks all rosy and his pan hat sliding off his ears, swaying back and forth with the Fuzzy. Their hands were locked, eyes completely drinking each other up along with the wine. They were in their own little world.
“Well, you’re right about one thing, Joxy.” the Mymble said, breaking the man’s thoughts.
“About what?” he asked.
“This spot is absolute heaven. Especially in an apple tree.”
“Mhm. The view especially cements that. Look how happy they all are.” Joxter affirmed.
He inched towards the spine of the tree and rested his back against it, now directly hovering above her. He dangled one foot out, letting it sway idly. He almost wanted to go back down there, but no. This was much nicer. And the Mymble agreed; for just a few moments, they sat and watched the party, lapping up the warmth it gave them. Fireflies waltzed around them and soon the frogs far in the distance began to sing.
“About what you said earlier.” The Mymble spoke up, “The world is a wonderful place, naturally. But…” She twiddled her fingers into her curls, “It can be a bit much sometimes I must admit.”
The Joxter furrowed his nose and looked down upon the Mymble, concerned.
“It can be.” he said, tilting his head at her, “Is the world treating you so cold?”
The Mymble chuckled, “Oh, no no no. Heavens no. My life is splendor, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But I understand where you’re coming from. “Fuss and Misery” and all.”
“Ah.” The Joxter leaned back again. Guilt bubbled in his belly. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that.
“I’m surprised you do. You’re so cheerful.” he told her, “As if nothing can dampen your spirits.”
“It can be difficult sometimes.” she replied, “Being a mother does take its toll on you.” Her tone saddened, “And I’ve been around long enough. People can be wretched, bad things can happen. It’s out of our control, you know.”
The Joxter bit the end of his pipe as he looked down on her again. Something inside him released, and his gaze softened,
“But you’re truly remarkable, Mymble.” She looked up, catching his eye.
“You radiate such light off of you.” he continued, “Out of spite against the darkness, you’re a beaming sun. People are drawn to you, spellbound.” He took the pipe out of his mouth, “Despite whatever’s happening, you evoke such happiness and cheer. How, how!? Not to sound crass, but I’ve seen mothers of any age crumble by the weight of holding just two babes. You have dozens of little beasts! Scampering about, always wild! Yet it doesn’t hinder you, not once!”
He couldn’t stop; the plug had been ripped out of his heart. It was spilling from his lips, onto the tree, onto her.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You astound me, you, you mesmerize me! My heart races when you look at me, I feel nothing but love for you. It’s infectious, you can cure the ill with your smile.” He wasn’t making any sense, he knew that. Oh lord, Joxter knew he should stop, he was making a fool of himself. But he couldn’t, he felt he might burst if he didn’t say something. He never felt like this before.
“How on earth do you do it?”
And then nothing. They both stared at each other, Mymble with her eyes wide, and Joxter…well Joxter quickly popped his pipe back into his mouth and sat back against the tree. His face burned once more. How he wished to hide in his hat again, but he knew she didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. So he sat, eyes vacant, hoping that didn’t spoil the evening.
Then, Mymble began snickering. She covered her mouth, hiding her snorts and giggles. Soon, it bloomed into uproarious laughter. The party could hear it, it scared the birds away from the trees. It was music; a melody of sweet joy and cheer. Tears streamed down her face as she barreled over just a bit against the tree. She hugged her stomach just to control some of it, but she couldn’t. And all Joxter could do was sit and wait, listening to that charming sound. A moment passed and she collected herself,
“My sweet mumrik.” she gasped between her fit. She wiped her eyes and sat herself back up.
“If you’re looking for an answer, I’m afraid I don’t have one.”
She noticed the Joxter’s foot dangling near her face. With her paw, she took his heel and rocked it back and forth gently. The man remained silent and still, waiting.
“You have such a way with words, you really do. I’m flattered.” she continued, “But I think the only thing I can say is, is that I’m just being Me. If there’s anything I love more than myself and my children, it’s life itself.” Joxter broke his anxious stare and peeked down again, intrigued.
Mymble proceeded, “I’m happy because I love being happy. And maybe it’s for myself or just for the sake of others but, it’s better to embrace life with love than fear or anger. It’s such a gift to be alive. And to see all that the world has to offer. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” She stopped swinging his foot and looked out to the field and trees before her. Down below, a group of people huzzaed and cheered as one Whomper finished off two bottles of boysenberry ale in a matter of seconds. A group of men raised the tipsy Whomper into the air, leading an uproarious cry. She chuckled,
“The sounds you can hear, the sights you see. And I love almost everyone I meet. I treat everyday like it’s an adventure.”
The Joxter heart was beating so loud. He could feel it ringing in his ears and in the air and inside his soul. She was right, she was so right. He couldn’t believe that such a beautiful creature existed, let alone crossed his path. It was too good to be true and yet here she was. Full of wisdom, and so full of love. She understood. And even opened his eyes to what he thought was freedom. And how to love life.
“You want to experience everything.” he added, suddenly. For it was his heart that was now doing all the talking.
The Mymble laughed. She grabbed his ankle tenderly, “Yes. To not let any worry or care weigh you down. Water off a duck’s back is what I always say!”
The Joxter pushed himself up from the tree. He took the empty pipe from his mouth and placed it back in his pocket. Mymble looked up at him; there were those emeralds again. Her eyelids lowered, a dreamy smile spreading her face.
“Just live in the moment.” he said to her, his voice low, almost a whisper. He leaned forward a bit. His heart was beating fast as ever, but a tranquility came over him. A certainty. The Mymble noticed this.
“You’re right. Live in the moment, for we don’t live forever. At least, some more than others.” she mused.
“That’s why you shouldn’t stay in just one place.”
“It gets so incredibly dull.”
“Very. Let things run themselves for a while.” Joxter winked at her and grinned, “That’s what I always say.”
The Mymble giggled. Slowly, she grabbed his ankle and pulled herself up to stand. She looked at him with batted eyes, her head meeting his stomach. She brushed her paw against his leg and rested it softly on his knee. His whiskers sprung up at the sensation yet he kept his eyes on her.
“You know…” she started, her voice dripping in honey, “People are very drawn to you too, I suspect. You’re very mesmerizing, Mr. Joxter.”
“My reckless nature has its charms, yes?” he queried, his voice layered in sweetness.
He saw the periwinkle hidden behind her fiery locks. He took a moment to brush it out. She blushed deeply.
“Well I do admit. Breaking the law does sound fun. Almost as fun as partying.”
“I should invite you next time.” Joxter said genuinely. Mymble inched closer to him,
“That would be marvelous.”
He dipped his head closer and closer to hers. There was a great warmth, a fire burning between them. What did Hodgkins call it? Sparks? He supposed that was what it was. But it was a glorious feeling, he didn’t want to last.
“My, my. Don’t you look beautiful…” he whispered. She was getting closer and closer, rising higher from the ground. He could smell gingerbread again, and no doubt she could smell tobacco.
“Mmmhm.” was all Mymble said. She was looking at his lips.
“We have a lot in common, don’t we?” he realized.
“It appears we do…Sun and Moon.”
“How compatible.” He just saw her now, nothing else. If this was what love truly was, he didn’t want it to end.
“How exquisite.” Their noses touched.
“You’re…remarkable.” Joxter said, breathlessly. He said that word about twenty times that night. But that didn’t matter, he couldn’t think anymore. His heart was swooning and the rest of the world was far away. He leaned towards her. The Mymble hooked her fingers around his chin,
“And you…warm my heart.”
And with those final words, the kiss was sealed. Time stopped for the both of them, the couple frozen. The Joxter, his body leaning so far out that he practically could dive face first to the ground. The Mymble, already quite tall, was balancing on her tippy toes, but she was graceful. Neither one moved. How long it lasted, they couldn’t tell. They just knew it was sweeter than the berries on a summer’s day, and they didn’t dare break.
Suddenly, an apple plummeted on Joxter’s head, breaking the kiss. He shook his head and rubbed his hat,
“Hm.” he said, both of them looking at the fruit that fell to the ground, “I’ve only dreamed of Apple Showers. Never thought I’d be caught in one.” The Mymble made a loud gasp, startling him. She pointed at the tree, crying excitedly, “Look!”
Joxter followed her finger and his mouth dropped agape. Before their eyes, the dead tree began to bloom. One by one, each branch sprouted apples, growing full size at such a fast rate. Pretty soon, rows of the round red fruit lined along the branches, like bells. The two gasped as following that, blossoms began to appear. Buds of pink and white flourished from the dead knots and fingers of the tree, enveloping the Joxter into a pink cloud. The abundance of the flowers was too much for the tree as some broke free and fluttered gently down to the ground, snowing onto Mymble’s hair. Their light touch tickled her as the tree now stood healthy and alive again. She took a small pile of the fallen petals and hugged them close to her breast, smiling ever so. A patch of heaven now sat on the hill, watching over the field. Illuminated.
The Joxter got to his feet as he watched the plumage continue. A thought suddenly occurred to him and rushed to the end of the branch where a cluster of the flowers bloomed. He quickly peered into each one, peeling through the petals and stigma just to see if-
“What on earth are you doing, you silly man!” she cried, watching him. Joxter kept looking inside one just to be safe.
“Oh I was just…” He felt bashful. He slowly took his paw off the plant, “Never you mind, dear.” The mumrik plucked the flower from it’s spot and held it tenderly in the palm of his paw. He looked at it, confused yet also mystified. Was it magic? Was this a sign? He believed in a lot of things, he was superstitious after all. Maybe it was something supernatural. Maybe it was a trick. He didn’t feel a presence. There wasn’t any danger. It was just them and the Tree.
“Oh..oh dear! I think there’s something in the flowers!” The Mymble exclaimed.
Joxter’s head jerked to meet her bewildered face nose deep inside one of the blossoms against her chest. He rushed over, crying,“Careful, careful! They can be very fragile!”
The Mymble didn’t say anything. This worried the Joxter,“Well!? Is it ok?” He laid on his stomach and leaned his head towards her bundle of flowers, “Let me take a look-”
Without warning, the Mymble blew the flowers into his face like December snow. He lunged backwards, the pink blossoms now stuck to his whiskers and black wild mane. The Mymble howled, pointing at his various adornments scattered about his face and coat. Through her guffaw she uttered out, “prettier than ever” and “as pink as a baby’s bottom” before hugging her stomach once more and letting her sweet snickering accompany the music from the forest around them. After spewing some petal from his mouth, Joxter observed his coat and looked back at the Mymble. He said she was infectious, and he was right. For seeing his state and the joy it brought her, he too began to laugh. It was hearty and brimmed with a drunken ecstasy he hadn’t felt in a long time. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he joined the Mymble in her fit, both failing to even form words.
“W-w-wait!” He managed to say, thinking of an idea. The Mymble watched through her breathless episode as The Joxter pulled the tobacco pouch from his pocket. He took a pinch of the leaves and raised his paw over his head. The powder had yet to touch his petals as the Mymble wheezed and fell to the grass. The Joxter grinned, dusting off the rest of the tobacco to dress his blossoms even more. No doubt the colony could hear them, two fools playing together in a tree. Well, even more now so since it’s hard to miss a pink tree glowing so brightly amidst the night sky.
“Madam Mymble.” The Joxter took off his hat and pressed it to his chest. He bowed and said, “I invite you to sit here with me, side by side. I fear if I act a fool any longer, you might roll down the hill. And I will lose you.”
The Mymble caught her breath and wiped her eyes. She sat up from the grass, “Oh that-that would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it?” she managed to push through her giggles.
“Indubitably.” The Joxter replied, quivering his lip and tracing a tear with his finger down his face. The Mymble stood and brushed off the petals from her dress,
“Hope you like being cozy!” She warned. She lifted her dress, ready to climb, when all of a sudden, a rumbling sound emitted from within the Earth. It traveled through the roots, and without warning, Joxter’s branch lowered to the ground. He lost his footing and fell forward onto the branch, but quickly dug his claws into the wood to avoid further damage. It wasn’t breaking off, no, no. The tree had shrunken, inviting the Mymble to sit alongside the man. She thanked the tree, and tucked her dress underneath her bottom and sat down beside him. The branch rose again to its original place.
“How kind.” The Joxter commented, sitting back up again. He tossed his hat to the ground below, bedazzled in it’s blossoms. The two then shared a look; questions were no doubt crossing their minds. But before either of them could speak, Mymble smiled and shrugged. The Joxter shared the sentiment. He scooted over closer to her and slid his paw into hers. She caressed his thumb, humming to herself. The Joxter rested his head against her shoulder and sighed. He felt warm, both in heart and in his face. He didn’t mind anymore. There wasn’t a single care in their world.
“I love you.” The mumrik stated. It was undeniable at this point. And he knew that whatever happened after was uncertain (which scared him, just a tad) but he didn’t mind at all. Let things figure themselves out for a while. The Mymble squeezed his hand and planted a kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes and the woman rested her head on top of his,
“I love you too.”
The world turned back on. The moon watched them, waning her light on the lovers who held each other and spoke of nothing. They listened to the songs of the night. The midnight birds, the frogs, the people singing, keeping everything alive and young. Love was in bloom. In a word, it was remarkable.