Pyramus moved through the forest, the sunlight filtering through the leaves casting shifting patterns across his back. He'd been walking... for awhile, he knew. It was difficult to keep up with the passage of time, particularly for faeries who found that it tended to stretch and condense in odd places. He'd set off early in the morning, he supposed, not before eleven. He'd felt like a walk, and both Hilde and Cressida were busy doing stuff in the court. Apparently there was to be another dance tonight, as if most nights didn't lead to a few glasses of sloe wine by the fire and some dancing. He figured it must be an important one, at any rate, to keep them this busy.
The grass, in this part of the forest, came up to his knees and he was aware that he was stepping through a part of the woods he'd never seen before. This didn't worry him unduly, Pyramus knew a good part of the forest and he'd surely wander into a bit he knew before long, or else, some other set of faeries could point him in the right direction. He had a few cakes, carefully wrapped up in large sycamore leaves, and a bottle of ginger beer stuffed into his satchel, so he was in no danger of starving to death.
He crossed through a meadow, the sun beating down on his bare back. He stood there a moment, it was a hot day and the air was still. Just beyond the next hill he could hear water, a river or forest pool.
Pyramus smiled, and set off in that direction, humming one of his campfire songs as he went.
