A young girl with dark skin and black fox ears wanders into the woodland, a thick book under her arm.

The forest calls to her with its gentle breezes, moving her hair as she stepped through grass and thicket.

She softly walked across the simple plank of wood that acted as a river bridge, and finally stopped at a hilly clearing with a brook cutting through it.

The little girl with pointy fox ears opened the leatherbound book she had, which had an illustration of majestic dragons embossed in the cover. She flipped to the page she had marked with the red ribbon bookmark, which had the colored drawing of a lithe dragon with scales as black as night.

“■■■ likes to slumber in peaceful woods, under the warmth of an afternoon sun,” the page’s text read.

Indeed the dragon did, as the real life rendition of the drawing was curled on a patch of lush grasses on the opposite side of the brook, sunlight glittering off the dusky scales of the dragon.

The little girl’s eyes widened as she laid eyes on the beast that had come to life from the drawing on the page, hesitating as she pulled her book close to her chest.

She breathed out, her ears relaxing.

Beside the birdsong fluttering through the treetops and the gentle breezes stirring the greenery, the forest was quiet.

A shy yet sanguine voice rose amidst the birdsong, singing an unknown song.

Of course, this new sound stirred the sleeping dragon, an eye opening lazily to look at the singing girl.

The dragon sighed and closed her eyes, no longer provoked.

At the end of her little aria, the girl fell silent and, curiously, simply watched the dragon with a blush.

A draconian eye opened a few minutes later, watching the girl back. A yawn ensued, revealing long, carnivorous teeth.

The large creature got to its feet, sharp, sizeable claws extending into the earth and long, sweeping tail swinging behind.

The little vulpine girl instinctively stepped back, holding her breath as she gazed at the approaching dragon.

The dragon did not strike out, however, instead merely sitting in front of the girl and looking down at her.

“■■■,” the black dragon said in a remarkably familiar voice.

The girl blinked, wearing her surprise on her complexion.

“You have the voice of an angel,” the dragon said in a tongue the girl could comprehend.

The little girl blushed, hesitated, then stuttered back a “t-thank you,” bowing her black-haired head.

The girl then stood up a little straighter, looking back up into the dragon’s striking snow white eyes.

The next thing that happened the girl could not remember.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Everything was white in the eyes of ■■■■■■.

Until it wasn’t.

She was awakening, and she could feel again. She could feel the homely warmth of a fireplace, and the soft caress of a quilt enveloping her.

She realized she was turned onto her side and her small, dark-skinned hands peeked out from under the blanket.

She turned over to lay on her back, as her right ear was getting smooshed into the cotton-covered pillow. She gazed up at the ceiling, which was a blend of ruddy brick and timber joists. She shifted her gaze to the door across from the bed, which was propped open slightly. Yellowish light leaked out into the room from the open door. She could hear the muted clinking of glass from beyond the bedroom. Then, after a few minutes, it was quiet again.

The lady with dark skin and pointy black fox ears pulled off the quilt covers, moving out of the comfortable bed. Curiously, she didn’t feel so groggy. She did, however, feel… “hazy?” It was like there was fog in her head, and she wasn’t fully aware of the situation she was in. Yes, she knew she had just woken up from sleeping, presumably, and it was probably morning based on the yellowy sunlight coming from the other room, but she couldn’t figure out why she was here, in this quaint little place. Where had she been last? She couldn’t even recall. It really was worse, and more mysterious, than a hangover.

She opened the bedroom door slowly, carefully not to make a lot of noise. She adjusted her long black braids, expecting to come across someone else based on the noises she heard earlier.

There was a very little someone else that she saw lounging on the sofa in this other room, which seemed like a living room. It was a little, fair-skinned girl with golden locks, in a pair of pink pajamas, reading a book. She glanced up with bright hazel eyes from her reading as the fox-eared lady stepped into the room.

“Mom, you slept a long time,” she commented nonchalantly, eyes moving back to the book to resume her reading before she even finished her remark. She crossed her petite ankles on the couch cushions, shifting her lounging position a bit.

■■■■■■ felt a chill as she heard the word ‘Mom.’ Almost like a stab of shame washing over her. She should know this, right? Of course she was the girl’s mother… Wasn’t she?

So, she concluded she was in… her own home? With this daughter that seemed vaguely familiar but somehow stranger?

Her eyes fell to look at the wooden coffee table next to the sofa, where a plate of half-eaten shortbread cookies was placed. She realized she felt a bit hungry as well.

Without responding, ■■■■■■ walked across the living room, exploring the house gingerly. She stepped under a brick-lined moon gate that led to the next room, which ended up being the kitchen.

Sure enough, she quickly discovered the source of the shortbread cookies the little girl–her daughter–had raided for a morning snack. It was a ceramic jar that was cracked open, revealing the powdery cookies stashed inside. She took a few herself and munched on them, feeling her hunger subside. Without a second thought, she made sure to completely close the jar’s lid before leaving the kitchen.

Licking the cookie crumbs off her hand, she passed into the adjoining hallway, which led to a windowed wooden door that showed a peek outside. She opened the door to reveal a green garden accented with many colors of flowers and a whitewashed bistro set. There were two sets of slippers that looked like they were just about her size by the door, along with another smaller set lined up next to them, so she put on the slippers that seemed proper before venturing outside to see the garden.

A chilled morning breeze tickled her cheeks and dawning sun warmed her, and after looking around briefly she decided to settle on one of the whitewashed chairs. She sat there, in her linen robe, without hardly a thought passing through her mind.

What she did think to herself was: Why do I feel like this? So… empty?

Nothing really occurred to her. She was mildly confused by her surroundings, yet everything just was what it was, and she could hardly bother to care.

The door to the brick house creaked open, and little feet in little slippers pranced outside hurriedly.

“Hey, Mom, when are we going to the ■■■■■?” The book was no longer in the little golden-haired girl’s hands, and she was still in her pajamas. Her wide hazel eyes seemed expectant and had a hint of excitement in them.

Of course, ■■■■■■ didn’t know what plans she was talking of. She hesitated for a moment, considering what to say as to not be jarring to the little girl.

“Hmm, I guess we can take off now?” ■■■■■■ tilted her head, and her black vulpine ears tilted as well, as she thought about what to do next. “... After all, it will take awhile to get there.”

Maybe this was a bad idea, as she didn’t actually know how to get to said place. She was either betting on somehow remembering along the way or furtively following “her daughter,” letting her subconsciously lead the way.

The little girl perked up at this. “Okay!”

She suddenly rushed back inside the house, calling out, “I’m going to get my stuff ready!”

■■■■■■ got up from her seat to return inside as well, thinking to herself lazily as she considered what to do… next.

Did she need to bring anything? She wasn’t entirely sure as she wandered back inside in her robe. Maybe change clothes? But where even did she keep her clothes?