Today, I must garden such flowers. Pale beauty, ready to rot through the winter snow. Uneternal until the heights of spring.
My long mane of hair flows around my head, untaught by the winds. Yet I watch the florals bloom in water.
The fog of the forest remained, since beginning.
Of such beautiful ladies, she had come enchanted. To be handled by such public eyes, was unable. A gown of longing, she...