"An afterthought," the bard wretchedly moaned. "After all the stories I'd regaled them with, this is how I'm regarded?"

Desperation sheared the edges of his melodic voice until it pitched into a reedy whinge, dipping with heady gasps as he swooned, like the mere thought of the children's indifference made him faint. Leif stroked circles along the sheep's nose, elbows tucked close to his sides when the bard swayed closer. The dry, subtle sweetness of orange hinted with notes of tart lime wafted beneath Leif's nose when the bard's head rested momentarily on his shoulder as he lamented the cruelty of forgetfulness. Amusement long since faded into exasperation when their paths failed to diverge at the crossroad what felt like ages ago. Not to mention the sheep who stopped ever-so-often to converse with the bellowing oxen and clucking chickens penned in the wooden fences of homesteads they passed. Casting a rueful eye to the sky, Leif wondered if the Heavens were punishing him or testing his patience. 

At the sound of shifting soles, Leif flicked his chin in the opposite direction and bit back a smirk as the heft of his ponytail smacked the bard square in the face. Sputtered complaints about unjust attacks against wounded souls drowned as Leif mused aloud, "Didn't you say your stories would outlive you, Ambriel?" 

No response came but he knew from the heated sensation boring into the side of his head that Ambriel was less than pleased. 

Clicking his tongue with blatant disregard, Leif added, "Being known as a bard is one step to that, even if it is through the whims of children. Perhaps, you aren't seeing your fortune clearly…" His gaze slid toward Ambriel's face, taking in the shades of bemusement rapidly lightening with flustered appall as the words, "Mister Bard," rolled off Leif's tongue. 

Ambriel's russet, reddish-brown cheeks tinged with a bronze glow as he gasped, "How dare—!"  He stomped one foot down, and Leif turned around with a huffed oh, leaning back a bit when Ambriel jutted an underhanded forefinger at his nose tip. Staring down the length of the bard's forefinger with a blank expression to his put-upon glower, Leif tipped his head to one and held his gaze until Ambriel harrumphed and locked his intertwined arms over his chest. "Hmph, I'd have you know that children are far better listeners than small-minded adults, and—"

Leif slanted a glance at the grazing sheep and nudged its flank with his knee, muttering "Come along," while Ambriel continued to rail off the tyranny of an older audience with his nose raised to the sky. Leif spat out the sweet grass blade as they passed under the branches of an apple tree stretching further off the orchard where it'd been planted. A blushing red apple tantalizingly glinted where it hung overhead at the furthermost end of the branch, making it bend lower until the fruit's heft. Leif smiled to himself, opening one hand as the gentle breeze swept past. Zephyrs, called from the wind, danced in the palm of his hand as tiny sparks of iridescent light sputtered to life. The zephyrs thinned, pressing upon one another until they were in the shape of a translucent thin blade, barely reaching past the tip of Leif's forefinger from blade to hilt. With a flick of his wrist, the blade cut a whistling path through the apple's stem. 

The zephyrs untangled from one another to catch up with their brethren while Leif collected the apple from where it fell on the ground. The sheep watched him, its twitching nose and perked ears turning from the departing spirits to Leif as he pulled a small razor from the laces of his boots. 

"We deserve a treat, don't you think, my friend?"  Leif asked, dragging the razor across the apple's crisp skin while striding along with the sheep's approving bleats at his heels. Just as the apple's core began to show, an aggrieved "Aha!" interrupted the tranquility.  

Leif rolled his eyes, tucking the sticky razor away just as Ambriel managed to fall in step beside him. "That is exactly what I mean. How you will continue to twist this knife, never once stopping for a moment to consider the intricacies of my craft. My passions."

"If you want someone to consider your passions, seek a lover," Leif told him dryly, biting into the apple. It was delicious and the sheep's nibbling at his fingertips spoke to how desirable another morsel would be. Their destination was not yet in sight, perhaps he had time to return and pluck another apple— 

"I'm married to my art, I'm afraid."

— If not for the company he kept.

"And so the eligible suitors across Adelesta breathe a sigh of relief," Leif scoffed, tossing the core in the air only to catch it by its severed stem. A flick of his fingers sending droplets of juice and the core flying at Ambriel.

"Hilarious," Ambriel drawled, eyes rolling until the core hit him square in the chest. He scrambled to catch it out of surprise, grimacing at the juice staining his hands. Though before he could breathe admonishments, the length of his cape tugged backward. The golden brooch keeping it clasped around his throat pulled taut against his neck enough that even Leif winced at the ornament's press. "A— aye!"  

Ambriel swept out an arm as he whirled around, tugging his cape free from its binding. His glower fell upon the wooly head of the sheep who'd plucked the core from the ground where it fell and began to gnaw on its bone. 

"Leif," Ambriel intoned with a faint tremor as he inspected the end of his cape, plucking at the frayed threads with disgust. "Just who is this.. fellow?"

Leif crouched down, drawing the apple's bone away from the sheep's nipping mouth with a soothing hand rubbing between its eyes. "My current client," he answered. "I'm returning him home after his passions led him astray."

As Leif stood, Ambriel fixed him with a stare nine-parts annoyed and one part weary, "What have I done to make you mock me so?" He sighed gravely when Leif stepped past him with naught but a passing glance, falling in step with him once more as they traversed past open pastures. "If you'd come only a purl sooner, you would have heard one of your favorite tales." The weighty pause in his breath drew Leif's intrigue despite his better judgment. He would never say so, out of risk of making Ambriel's ego greater than what it already was - but he was masterful at weaving Words. So much so that Leif nearly forgot his teasing in favor of being drawn into the bard's intoxicating illusion. Still, he glanced aside and found Ambriel's face turned up to him with a triumphant smirk. His eyes were a lurid bronze, but there was the faintest hint of silvery wisps in their depths where his pupils should have been. Leif cursed as he saw the wisps twist and turn like thin ashen streams rising from a roaring brazier. They spun together, and Leif stared utterly entranced until Ambriel blinked and the spell was broken. 

His lips curled, gold shimmering on his lips as he crooned with the whisper of his Words thrumming loudly into a crescendo in Leif's mind, "The Hero's Journey."

The smoke spun together, forming the silhouette of a man and Leif stared utterly entranced as he began to turn, his face lost amidst the blinding glare. Yet, Leif wholeheartedly believed if he'd turn enough he could make out a face. His heart raced, drawing closer as the man's profile nearly came into view until Ambriel's eyes shut. The mole kissing beneath his left eye lifted as his cheeks rounded with a cackle, hands clapping together gleefully. "Ah, there it is! The sparkle of curiosity, the doe eyes of a soul wanting to dream! Perhaps you're not a dull soul yet, my friend."

Shaking off the draw of those Words, Leif huffed, "Maybe not," and trudged ahead with the sheep dazedly following behind. He cursed his luck that the sheep had been drawn into Ambriel's thrall, but at least it would remain docile enough not to wander off now. He refused to look back at the bard as he strode ahead, five-parts unsure of what he would see and five-parts unwilling to give him satisfaction. Instead, Leif called over his shoulder, "But I am a busy one, Ambriel. I can dream at moonset." 

"Then, why don't we have dinner together?" Ambriel's lilting voice crooned. "To settle what has set us at odds, and perhaps bring us closer."

A refusal sat on the tip of his tongue, but his stomach's traitorous howl preceded him. He sighed, resting a hand on his stomach with the bitterness of defeat tugging at his lips. "You're paying," he said. 

With a flourish, like he'd been granted the grandest applause, Ambriel answered, "Of course, of course, how could a shepherd boy afford anything when his sheep wander on his watch?"

Leif hadn't the face to respond, which was just as well because when he glanced over his shoulder, Ambriel was gone. The sheep blinked up at him, seeming to recognize something was amiss but too lost in the glamor to know what.  Leif returned the inquisitive gaze with an understanding one of his own, and spoke as they wandered down the path so that the sheep could follow his voice through the haze, "I understand you've a liking for plants, but if you wanted to take another nip out of him, I wouldn't be opposed."