Lion and Lilly slowly spun in circles in a moonlit pond and shared a kiss as if it was their first. Then Lion carried Lilly up to the grassy shore and lay beside her, gazing at the stars in the water. She smelled of rainy flowers, close against his droplet-freckled cheek. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. No sooner than that but they fell asleep.
When Lion woke up, Lilly was gone. The twilight that had graced their forest for a thousand years had given way to Dusk, and Dusk to Dawn. A strand of her hair was all that remained where she had slept—one golden thread, strung through a handful of heart-shaped flower petals, all colors of the rainbow.
He had never been apart from her before. Whether they played tag or ran and hid from one another for uncounted hours, he had always sensed her vividly—a warm spot, like the sun behind closed eyes—but he had never known this deep abyss that was suddenly inside his mind. His thinking plummeted and disappeared.
She was gone.
He knew nothing, now. But how can she be gone, when I have never wished it so?
He pawed at the ground beside him with unthinking fingers and, finding her abandoned flower necklace, scooped it up. As he stared at the glowing petals he felt his own light fade.
Water crystallized in his eyes. Numb, he pulled the necklace on. It circled gently around his neck, his first teardrop in a thousand years fell from his cheek, the forest disappeared, and Lion crashed into a hard world of dark water, headfirst.