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She revels in the sound of the snow beneath her boot as she walks. The trail she leaves behind her, the mark of her existence that will fade away with spring and leave her treading through mud instead on clean blankets of freshly fallen crystals, building on each other in the cold, and then packed together with every step. She changes them, forming them into something new before they become water once again.
She barely feels the cold. There are so many things to keep her warm, traversing through the familiar thicket of trees. Her hope keeps her warm, her desires. She can see the light, the glittering gold before sees the clearing or hears the quiet chants.
She doesn't know how the rituals began. She knows only that those who came before them, the coven of lovers and poets and priestesses would come together on the eve of the spring equinox to give peace to the darkness as it waits for its time and celebrate the light that will tend to the Earth in its time. It is the balance of all things.
The songs come to her as she sees her brothers and sisters dancing in sparkling light. She smiles and joins them, others coming in from other depths of the forest to become one together in spirit and song. Her voice rises with them, spinning and stirring up the powder beneath her feet as she dances in near perfect unison. Perfection is never the goal, but when they become one together, it happens regardless.
The orbs rise above them, and in the shadows that fall, a hand grasps her own. Her head turns and smiles at the sight of her lover. She looks for him in the darkness of the winter, but she can only find him in the warmth of spring. Some days, it's harder to find him, but now, as his season closes in, he's here.
"I hoped to find you," she says.
He pulls her close so they can dance together. "You never lost me."