Chapter Text
“Before time was measured, before there was light, before the fawn-like creatures danced beneath the stars and whispered against the wind, there was only Starling Lake. The mother of all life, from her depths all animals walked, and to her depths they returned.
“Of all her children, that she loved the most was a gentle fawn who roamed her shores, nibbling the grasses and lapping at her waters. He played gaily with his siblings near her shores where she kept watch. She loved him more than herself, whispering to him how precious he was to her.
“But the Night Sky, the husband of the Lake, was jealous that she bestowed her affections upon the fawn, who was her child alone. She had refused to bare children to him, his dark and cold demeanor frightening to her.
“The Night Sky in a rage summoned clouds to rain upon her face, forcing her to shut her eyes for thirty days and retreat within her depths. When the rain finally subsided, she returned to the surface to find her favorite fawn drowned, laying in the sand by her pools. She wept against his body for many days, her once clear waters running muddy from her agonized wails.
“At the end of it all, she collapsed in the foam of her rims, reaching out to her son. He seemed to dissolve, too, in her river of tears, receding with her tide. From her shining waters stepped the first Fauna. With magnificent antlers, a spine of soft fur, and a tail like that of the fawn's, he stood with dignity, his reflection in her face.
“She shone with joy at his sight, wondering if he was reborn anew. But the damage had already been done. Weakened by her grief, her life began to wane. She gave birth to another fauna, a female, before giving in to an eternal slumber.
“Thousands of years passed, the family of fauna growing beyond measure. Six other fauna, conceived beneath the Starling Lake, were born unique from their kind. These seven held gifts beyond compare, the last of the lake's spirit lingering to bless them, her chosen children.
“These seven eventually faded into legend, retreating to spend their immortality in contemplation. For a time they were forgotten.
“Starling Lake, once a century, would be visited by a flock of starlings. The fauna nearby noticed that on this certain night, the birds would dive beneath the water, resurfacing just before sunrise despite their lack of air. At their rising they would have the knowledge to command spiders, weaving strong nests of silk for their young. For nearly a thousand years this occurred, until one fauna worked out the mystery.
“The Starling Lake had not forgotten her children. Once a century, beneath the full moon, she would hide the fauna in her deepest folds, giving knowledge of all kinds. The Night Sky, realizing his grave sin, would bring her power to peak again, grieving the loss of his wife. But if the sun rose with one still beneath the surface, her power would fade with his, and the memories of the fauna would be lost, leaving them to drown just as the first.
“Six of the seven returned to light, helping to watch over those who would seek the blessing of their mother. The seventh neither seeks the company of others nor is spoken of by their brothers,”
"What, no one has seen him all this time?" a young fauna interrupts tilting their head skeptically.
The leading fauna pauses, turning over their shoulder with a queer look in their eye.
"He, or she, is said to have become corrupted, with a gaze as cold as ice, a heart of stone, and hair as black as the lips of the dead. They live deep within the forest surrounding Starling Lake, in the heart of a dying willow. Their title is The Shadow, and all who cross paths with them will meet an untimely demise,”
The group falls into a hush, wide-eyed.
“Would you ever go looking for a being such as that?”
It seems as though every sunrise must be counted. The sky whispering pink and blue into the atmosphere, calling to the flowers to unfurl for the day. Dawn with its soft shadows and cooling mist on your tongue, dewdrops collecting on your fingertips outstretched.
On tiptoe, you take a hesitant step forward, moving along a path both unknown and familiar; the trail worn deep by generations of fauna making this same journey, a rut running up to your knees. The moon has yet to wax full, still just shy of its perfect roundness, but you must be swift to reach your destination. Many days have passed with your feet carrying you doggedly along, searching.
But the air here is different, the scent of the water lingering. You are near, of this you are certain.
As you break through the clearing, you catch sight of the sun, shimmering in the distance. No longer sore, light as a feather you run down the path. The sun is rising as it always has, the surface of the great Starling Lake watching its ascent. You wonder if she is grateful for the warmth.
Other fauna are nearby, some sleeping and others beginning to stretch, shaking their antlered heads. Still, something drives you, a sense of unease until you have wandered further. Paths yet to be seen are twining all around, leading you to other roads. There is something you still have yet to find.
Though uncertain, the feeling cannot be ignored. You move through trees, turning this way and that, till a mound of trees and rocks rises up before you, like pillars from the ground. A sweeping entrance of vines beckons you inside.
A sound like rushing water comes from within, and upon brushing back the curtain you find that the sound grows, like all things breathing together in harmony. Through an arch of vines and flowers, with watery sunlight streaming down to light his face, a fauna reclines on a couch of silk. Around his waist is tied a simple cloth, around his neck a single thread with one bead. In contrast his head is crowned by his antlers, with branches spreading out like a magnificent tree. They seem to gleam, with twinges of gold leaf painted throughout, precious gems and chains dangling from their tips. They chime pleasantly as he turns his head, a gentle smile on his face as he reaches out to you.
“Hello again, my little one. It has been a while.”
Shyly you approach, taking his hand in yours and nodding your head. He pushes himself up, patting the seat beside him for you to sit. Your feet swing just above the ground, making you feel even smaller beside his broad shoulders.
“I am Taehyung, the Childlike, Father of All Fauna in the Beginning. Did your journey go well?”
“Yeah, I didn’t meet any trouble on my way.” Your stomach rumbles, protesting the conversation. Taehyung laughs, pulling you to your feet.
“Come on, let’s talk over breakfast.”
With the sun warming up the air, the world around you is beginning to become noisy. Despite the burden of his tree-like antlers, Taehyung forces you to walk with a spring in your step, nearly racing you through the trees. Down a path he must have followed a thousand times before, he finds no trouble in navigating the thick brush. Eventually you burst forth into a field, where growing vegetables are spread as far as the eye can see. He pauses, a graceful silence to his figure though you pant heavily beside him.
“Namjoon!” he cries out as he spots his friend, waving excitedly. You follow his gaze to see another fauna, back bent as he tends his plants in earnest. He looks up, smiling broadly to see the two of you.
“Ah, Taehyung!” he beckons. “Come here!”
The two of you come up to meet him. He takes a stand, brushing off his dusty hands on his hips. His apron is covered in earth and dusty handprints, but it suits him. His skin is browned from the sun, ridged and lined but shining with youth.
“Namjoon, the Tender.” He embraces you affectionately. “You’re the last one we’re expecting to arrive. The others have already been introduced. Why don’t we all have breakfast together, to welcome you?”
“We’re already waiting on you!” a shout comes from the trees. A silver-haired fauna pokes his head out, looking peeved. “We’re starving, let’s get a move on!”
Namjoon rolls his eyes, taking his time in heaving the heavy basket at his feet. Taehyung runs ahead; you linger behind, anxiously wondering if you should help carry anything.
“It’s hardly dawn, there’s no way you have been waiting!”
Another head appears.
“We’ve been up since before dawn for days! No time for sleeping when the moon is almost full!”
The black-haired fauna pauses and looks at you as though he’s just become aware of your presence.
“Oh! You’re the last one!” he shakes your hand. “Jin, the Night Star, and this is Jimin, the Familiar. You should have breakfast with us!”
“She was going to follow us for breakfast, that’s why we brought her!” Namjoon grumbles impatiently.
They all chatter around you while your head is still spinning in a daze. You sit down meekly at their table, the last two joining you with another warm welcome. Hoseok, the Time Dancer, with a radiant smile and scruffy ginger hair that gives him a wild look. Lastly Jungkook, the Softspoken, who shyly offers you a chair, smiling sweetly when you thank him in earnest.
The seven of you are gathered around a table, eating and chatting in the most ordinary way. But for all other fauna, even the most extraordinary gifts given paled in comparison to the power of those conceived beneath the lake.
Jin, the Night Star
Before his birth, the world knew only darkness. There was only the endless night sky, stretching into the void with not even a star to bring life beyond the lake. At Jin’s birth, his eyes were the first to shine through the darkness; his skin seeming to glow through the black.
The husband of the lake, still ever as cold and wicked, grew jealous again, tormenting Jin through his childhood by surrounding him in frost. But wherever Jin walked, all things seemed to warm at his touch.
The night sky in a fury sent the coldest storm he could muster, dragging it from the depths of the far north.
Seeing the lake and all of the animals beginning to freeze, Jin’s heart ached for the state of the world. He wept into the blizzard, his tears shining through the darkness, driving away the cold. Rising into the sky, there they hung as the stars, spreading a touch of the light Jin carried with him always. With the flames of his spirit he breathed out, the sun collecting in the sky and driving away the night. And with the last of his anger and grief, the cold beauty of the moon fell into place.
At last the world was free of the night sky’s cold tyranny.
Namjoon, the Tender
With the lake sleeping, food began to be scarce. Though fauna and animals continued to be born into the world, the greenery around missed the life she would breathe into the atmosphere, lifting the plants from their seedling state to full bloom. Time had not yet come into place, and neither death. The fauna walked around in their skeletal forms, the hunger driving them to their knees. They knew not what it meant to live, for they had forgotten.
At his birth, the plants around him lifted their wilting bodies, turning towards him as though he were the sun itself. Where he walked, new growth sprung to life, plants began to bear fruit, and all of the world rejoiced.
Jungkook, the Softspoken
What was the world without a kind word, a gentle thought, or a comforting phrase? The fauna knew each other well, their language like the animals surrounding them. But to truly connect, they needed more than instinct.
Jungkook, sensing the emptiness of the world, was the first to speak. Though unsure at first, his voice grew, filling those who cared to listen with every syllable he could rasp across his quiet tongue. It was through his birth that the fauna learned to sing, to write, to express their complicated thoughts and emotions. At dusk and dawn, he sings with a voice like crystal clear water, sending away every thought that comes into his mind, to be caught up in the wind and taken to the far corners of the earth.
"What took you so long? Everyone else arrived two days ago!" Jimin teases, refilling your cup.
"I'm from the farthest clan North," you explain. "I'm the only one who will be of age for a few centuries; I had to travel alone."
Namjoon looks at Taehyung.
"You didn't send her an escort?"
Taehyung looks flustered, eyes wide.
"I-I-I mixed up the ages!" He stammers out, looking at you apologetically. "I'm sorry you had to journey alone."
You wave his concerns away good-naturedly, popping a radish in your mouth.
"No worries! Our clan is very small; I don't mind being alone."
"Still, we'll escort you home!" Hoseok says firmly. "You can never be too careful."
They nod in agreement.
"Ah, Jungkook, won't you wake up?" Jin pokes him and ruffles his hair.
To your amusement, the creator of language has for the most part been silent this whole time. Deep into his meal and unwilling to waste a breath, he mutters out a soft "no," cheeks full.
You expected to feel like an outsider in their presence, or uncomfortable at least. Having spent thousands of years with each other, you thought they would feel otherworldly. Instead they treat you as one of them, listening to you intently with a gleam of affection in their eyes.
You wonder how the seventh could have become corrupted in such a setting as this. Likely, it would not be polite to ask.
Still, as they take you back to the lakeside to meet the others, you can't help but wonder.
The next day comes swiftly, with much preparation to be done in time for the ceremony. Today, Hoseok is teaching the Dance of the Seasons, the ritual dance before the full moon peaks that brings the seasons back into alignment. Without it, winter would eventually spread throughout all time.
The vital factor in this performance is all that is keeping you from collapsing.
"Five minute break!" Hoseok shouts. The fifty-odd fauna students collapse, panting with their heads on their knees.
"Can we have ten minutes?" Someone chokes, their voice hoarse.
"This isn't even the hard part," he says encouragingly. The whole group groans; one person flops on their back as though never intending to rise again.
"Alright, ten minutes then. Go for a swim and cool off." Fondly he shoos the lot away, relaxing in the shade with Jimin.
Not feeling like getting wet, you follow them beneath the tree, plopping on your tail with a weary sigh.
"You must have been sore for days having to learn the dance alone," you comment.
Hoseok shrugs.
"Of course, but back then it was exciting. It's still exciting to watch the young ones learn, but in a different way. We all would dance every full moon, just the seven of---” he breaks off, growing quiet.
“The seven? He was with you?” you can’t help but ask, burning with curiosity.
“Those were better days.” Hoseok turns away; Jimin lays a hand on his shoulder.
“The seven of us were close. Closer than brothers. All things rise and fall around us, and only we remain.” Jimin stares at you strangely, his eyes glinting. “One of us is lost, but still here. Always.”
Mystified you lose confidence, looking at the ground.
“Sorry,” Hoseok mumbles, rising to his feet. “But there isn’t any point in talking about it.”
He gives his head a shake before sprinting toward the lake, jumping in with his usual eagerness.
“They were twins,” Jimin interjects again, watching his friends. “Hoseok, and the other. Inseparable, Time Dancer and his Shadow.” He stands, too, tilting his head to look down at you.
“Why can’t the Shadow be with you any more?”
“In the thousands of years since they left, you’ve been the first to ask that.”
Hoseok calls the group back together, driving the conversation away with your breath as you once again begin to dance. Your limbs are aching as you make your way to dinner, protesting when you squat down to sit.
“I can’t feel my tail,” one guy winces, leaning his antlers against a tree for support.
“I’ve got blisters!”
“Quit complaining,” Namjoon chides, hefting a basket over his shoulder. “I’ve brought you some roots for your sore muscles. You’ll feel better in no time.”
With a bit of effort to mash them into a pulp, the sticky goo feels cool on your skin, bringing near instant relief.
“I have a gift as well, seeing as the sun is setting,” Jin pipes up. From a satchel he starts to reveal tiny, intricately tied bracelets. With the fading sun they cut through the darkness, shining likes stars against your wrists.
“The lake can be mesmerizing. Sometimes fauna are so caught up in what they’re being shown that the sunrise catches them underwater. These bracelets will let us know who is still in the lake.”
“Has anyone ever lost their memory?” someone asks nervously.
“Of course. How do you think they found out that would happen?” Jin shrugs. “But it’s been many thousands of years. We’re very careful, now.”
The hair along your spine prickles, matching the unease of the others.
“Would be a good way to forget an ex-girlfriend,” someone in the crowd quips, causing laughter to ripple through. The tension dissolves, with chatter once again becoming a cheerful hum in the background.
Jimin hangs around the campfire long after the others retire to their own beds, his eyes glistening as he stares unblinking at the flames. His hand clenches around a fistful of grass, tearing it up by the roots. The strange noise breaks through the even quiet of fauna snoring and insects whirring, rousing you from your drowsy state.
“Jimin, you’re not going to sleep?” you whisper, hardly able to lift your head. He jumps, the grass dropping from his hand.
“Ah, it is getting late, you are right.” Hastily he retreats, melting into the darkness with the soft ‘shh’ of his footsteps.
Too exhausted to question his behavior, your lids flutter closed, sleep pulling you under.
In the folds of your dream a fauna you’ve never met walks ahead of you. Their skin is smattered in white freckles, their hair and fur white as snowfall in winter. You can’t see their face, only follow their back as they keep just a pace ahead.
Your eyes are drawn downward to the path you are on, searing the way into your mind.
With your eyes opening at the dawn, the dream still remains vividly against your sight. You rise, stepping over the still-sleeping forms of the others, careful not to tread on the hot coals glowing in a bed of ash. Still feeling in a dream, you turn out of the clearing, down an overgrown mess of brush. It takes time to skirt your way around the tangle of ivy but at last you make it to the other side. The sun is still cool, sky a baby blue as you grow near to something you sense is waiting.
A tree. A tree that at first appears to have luscious, full leaves and vines dangling below. But as you draw near, the foliage is revealed to be thousands of threads no thicker than a strand of hair, each with a single bead weighing them at the end. Leaned against the tree is the white haired fauna, his hair tied back into a long knot that trails nearly down to his tail.
He doesn’t look up, bent over his work as he measures out more threads, laying them out on a lengthy table beside him. Under the spell of a dream intently you watch, observing in utter silence until he suddenly speaks.
“I don’t remember inviting you in,” he says curtly. His voice breaks the spell, leaving you in a daze, aware of your surroundings for the first time. You open your mouth, no sound escaping.
“If you must, watch,” he sighs patiently. Carefully through the identical batch of threads, following down the line until he comes across the one he apparently intended to find. With a silver knife he trims it, tying the bead at the end.
“Hang it up anywhere.” He hands it to you, gesturing toward the branches, uninterested in your swallowed protests. Carefully stretching on tiptoe you knot it securely to one of the many branches, where it falls into place, lost amongst the others beside it.
“Who...who are you?” Finally you find your voice.
“No one particularly important. You may call me the Weaver if you must give me a name.” Lazily he unloads more spools of thread, measuring them out against the span of his arms.
“Is this your gift?” you gesture to the web of silk.
“It’s more like a curse.”
“A curse?”
“My gift is so incredibly dull that it seems hardly worth that I received it.” The Weaver scratches the base of his antlers, still not looking up.
“Then what is it?” Of course, now you are dying to know. How could any gift be boring?
“When the wind blows through these, it sounds exactly like rain."
You wait for a more detailed explanation, but he is clearly finished.
"That's it?"
"That's it,"
"Oh." Awkwardly you look at his work, suddenly worried that you might also have a useless gift after the ceremony. "May I?" You gesture as though to strum them. He nods. You run your fingers through the hanging strands. No rain sound happens.
"A little more forceful," he coaches. "Like this." With a sharp buildup he brushes through a solid portion, bringing them up high before releasing.
The sound is breathtaking; if you shut your eyes you might truly be standing in the center of a rainstorm.
"Oh, that's beautiful." You lift them again, listening to the melody of pattering droplets elicited. "I don't think that's dull. It's lovely."
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, expressionless.
"You like them?" His voice is soft, almost puzzled.
"Why wouldn't I?" you query back.
He dusts his hands on his skirt, putting the knife in his pocket.
"Most don't like the rain. It's cold and wet, and it's...lonely."
"If we didn't have rain, nothing would grow," you muse.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the voice of Jimin.
"Hey! There you are, we've been looking everywhere for you!" He nods to The Weaver. "I see you've been talking?"
"More like she's been bothering me with her questions," he says dryly.
"I'm sorry, I must have...been sleepwalking I guess? I don't really know how I got here. I'm really sorry!"
The Weaver turns his back, ignoring your apology. As the two of you turn to leave, he tosses out over his shoulder "If you really like the sound, you can come back tomorrow and I'll make something for you,"
"Oh, okay!" you stammer, cheeks pink. Jimin stifles a snicker with his hand, grabbing your arm and hurrying away.
"Why does he just live out here all by himself?" You wonder aloud. Jimin shakes his head, clicking his tongue.
"He and Taehyung got into a fight. The Weaver didn't want to leave the lake but couldn't stay close."
"He really doesn't have a name, then?"
"Not anymore. He just works on his rainmaker all day long. So that's all he has become."
"He must be lonely," you say softly, the conversation echoing in your head. " Rain…is lonely."
By the time you finally make it back, breakfast has been devoured much to your chagrin. The first lesson with Hoseok of the day is about to start; no time to forage for a snack. After two hours of intense exercise without any food, the lake is beginning to wobble in your vision, the hot sun beating down against your shoulders. You sit down shakily, your head in your hands.
"You okay?" Asks Namjoon, concerned.
"Yeah, just really...dizzy. I didn't have any breakfast," you moan. Taehyung and Namjoon support your shoulders, walking you back to the garden hut where Taehyung lives. Namjoon brings you a cucumber to cool you off and get some water in you, while the Childlike brews some tea.
"Next time, we can wait for you, silly," he chuckles. "It wouldn't have taken long."
Nodding meekly, you nibble on the food and have a sip of tea, already feeling a little better.
"Sorry, I just got caught up."
"Jimin said you got pretty far."
"Yeah, I went all the way to the big tree and met--" you break the sentence, remembering that Taehyung had a grudge against The Weaver. "Met some locals." You finish lamely.
Namjoon glances at Taehyung, who sighs, a hard edge to his gaze unlike you've seen to twist his round features.
"It's fine. You don't have to lie. What happened between us was a long time ago."
He hands you a roll before roughly exiting the room.
"I didn't mean to upset him," you say, voice trembling. "I don't even know how I ended up there but the Weaver...he seemed okay to me. Was it really bad, what happened?"
Namjoon looks anxiously to the side, unsure of how to answer.
"It wasn't anyone's fault, but yes...it was quite...something. I wouldn't think of it too much, alright? Finish your tea and we'll go have a swim with the others."
The tea tastes empty on your tongue.
"Will Taehyung be alright?"
"Yeah. He will be. Don't worry."
It's hard not to, given his reaction to even implying the Weaver's existence. Still, you feel drawn to him, your thoughts restless as the day continues. Being immortal, you reflect, must be exhausting. You're glad that your path is more certain, though at your young age death is as difficult a thought as any other.
"You're quiet," Jungkook comments, coming to sit next to you.
"You're one to talk," you tease lightly back. He grins, eyes crinkling up.
"I'm the Softspoken, aren't I? If I talked too much they'd change my name to Chatterbox."
You concede this as a reasonable thought. Jungkook's presence, just sitting there in silent thought, is comforting. You try to get the strange events of earlier out of your mind, focusing instead on the upcoming full moon.
"I hope my gift is useful to my clan. Sometimes I worry that I don't have anything good to offer them," you confide. Jungkook nods understandingly, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"When I was your age, I didn't feel like my gift was anything great. Imagine being one of the seven but your friends have time-bending power or the ability to grow anything. It was hard to see language as being something necessary.
"Until I heard the words 'I love you.' That's when my perspective changed. So maybe, even if you can't see it at first, your gift will be something special."
He leans back into the grass, gazing at the stars serenely.
"We all can sense something about you. Jimin of course was the first, but even to us, it is obvious. So, I wouldn't worry too much."
"Something about me?"
"Yeah. Like you're one of us somehow."
His words are startling to you, the way he lets them go so easily.
"But I wasn't born here. And I don't have a gift yet,"
"No. But if you look at our destinies...they seem to go on beside each other."
You try to see what he sees, but the stars are nothing more than stars to your eyes.
"I don't really understand," you sigh, feeling miffed. He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Me, either."
Jungkook is still fast asleep beside you in the morning, cheek squished against his hand. You move him to be more comfortable before rising, the first of the camp to do so.
The Weaver's presence calls to you, hastening you along the overgrown path to find him. The world is filled with an eerie silence; no birds chirping or frogs singing. Even the gentle lap of the lake is absent.
But there is a sound, something unsettling beyond the quiet. Your footsteps have an echo. If you listen most carefully, you can pick out something following you, pausing only when you do.
You whirl around, seeing nothing. With a growing anxiety you turn, catching a glimpse of a black shape in the corner of your eye. You break into a run, fleeing in alarm as the footsteps begin to grow heavy behind you, followed by a growl like thunder.
You are the prey of some forsaken creature, running for your life. Closer, closer, it seems to pant at your heels, until you're sure that in one more step it will be on top of you.
You cross the threshold into the Weaver's tree, doubling over as you gasp for air.
"You really didn't have to run here. I'm not quite ready yet."
"I...There was…" you can't make a full sentence.
"Was what?" He raises an eyebrow.
Behind you is nothing. The path is empty, the woods filled with animal song once more.
"Maybe I was sleepwalking again…?" It felt too real.
Still shaking, you take a seat next to him, watching as he measures out more threads for the already full tree.
"Why don't you start a new tree?" you ask.
"Because finding a good place is a lot of work. Besides, I like this one,"
"Oh."
The Weaver moves to look beneath his desk, pulling out a wooden box. Inside are carved wooden hoops about the size of your hand.
"Pick one." He gives the box a little shake. You nervously choose one that seems sturdy enough. "Alright, now take this spool and start cutting threads about the length from finger to elbow. Yeah, like that."
"How many should I make?" The thread is incredibly thin.
"Enough to cover the circle. Only then will it sound like rain."
"Oh...I guess I'll miss breakfast again," you mumble.
"Concentrate!" he interjects as you nearly drop the spool. "This thread is near impossible to untangle."
Time passes beneath your notice as you work diligently, tying the threads around the hoop and fastening beads at his direction. The sun finally signals that it is time for your duties back at the camp. A short dance practice, weeding, cleaning muck from the lake top.
"You had better go," he tells you before you even look up from finishing the last knot. "It's getting to be close to high sun."
"I'm not even close to finished," you lament, surveying your work.
"You still have a few days. If you can't finish it, I'll send you home with thread and beads."
His generosity surprises you.
"Thank you. I'll come back and work hard." Turning to leave, the sense of unease returns at having to walk back on your own. "Um," you whirl around, wringing your hands, "would you mind...just walking back part way with me?"
Dramatically he lets out a breath, rolling his hair up into a firm knot at the top of his head.
"Come on, then. So the monsters in the woods don't eat you."
Relieved you follow after, not minding his dry tone. It's not too far of a walk back, but you stick close to the Weaver out of fear. Whatever was around earlier was worse than anything you'd ever felt.
"Here we are," he says, unceremoniously heading back the moment you step within earshot of the lake.
"You sure you don't want to hang around?" you ask, grabbing the hem of his skirt. Oddly enough you feel reluctant to let him leave.
"I can't leave my tree forever. Besides, I'm sure Jimin told you that Taehyung hates me." His voice catches in his throat, and he struggles to remain neutral in his expression.
"Alright. See you tomorrow." There is nothing else you can do to make him stay. He slips away into the woods, leaving you with the day ahead.