Forests are places of eternity. That’s why Caera chose one as her solace. She lay there covered in fall’s crunching leaves, a root cradling her neck.

“Canopies make the best views of the sky,” she mused. “Always changing façades with the seasons, but the branches still all grow in the same direction. Just like people. Just like everything.”

“Not everything,” said Drake from where he sat high above observing her, his legs dangling freely off the branch. He was a part of the canopy that added to its beauty, but Caera would never admit that out loud. “What about the wind? The wind changes direction all the time, and it doesn’t bother crafting a façade in the first place.”

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Caera had nothing to say to this. She blushed and turned her face away, unable to bear such an impish expression cast in her direction. A knot in the root poked at her neck like it was consciously nudging her to turn back and face him.

“How come you’re so cryptic all the time?” asked Drake, swinging his legs back and forth with an easy, comfortable grace. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say it’s because you’re afraid to show people who you really are, what you really believe. Though I must admit, hiding it behind metaphors is an adorable coping mechanism.”

“I wonder what direction you’re growing in,” said Caera as she gave in to the root and looked back up at him.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He grinned, eyes filled to the rim with mirth. “Toward you.”