From a window ledge located in the lonely side of Somewhere outside St. Canard, two bright eyes watched the starry sky. Their shining depths reflected the moon as tears rolled slowly down the young girl’s cheeks. She sat in an eternity of the night, watching, listening, thinking, dissolved into her own distant world as she collected her tears in a green handkerchief which was more often seen feebly attempting to keep her hair out of her eyes. But now the mass of wiry yellow hair flew free, ruffled as if by the unseen hand of an older brother at play. She twitched her tufted tail at that thought. From within the large country house, not a sound disturbed her until the flood-gates of her heart decided to close on their own accord. Still she sat in the moonlit window, savoring the experience. As if in a dream, she touched the tear-soaked sleeves of her nightgown, felt the cool night air against her hot cheeks, then tied the handkerchief around her head once more.

“I miss you,” she sighed brokenly to the moon. “Whoever you are, I miss you.” She perched in a trancelike state, muttering her thoughts to herself as she had done so many nights before. “I feel you out there, my kindred spirit. You can hear me. I know it. Be comforted, knowing that if you weep, so do I. Many more moonshowers will come… they must come. I will be with you when they do. Wait for me. I’m coming to you.” She spoke as one who whispers a prayer to an uncertain god. Yet whatever passionate nymph heard this child’s prayer answered her in a gust of wind that seemed to say “I’m waiting, dearest Mina.”

With that reassurance, imagined or not, the girl crawled into her bed. She curled herself into a tiny ball under the quilt and fell asleep with the wind’s song in her ears.