"She's there to see your birth, right when you're awake, but gone before you could see how much of a killer your thirst can truly be. You see her at the dawn of snow, and lose her at the blink of fall. No one knows where she comes from, or where she's heading. Only that she's nothing more but a leaf, carried by the wind. For the immortal she's a warm presence lingering, only it's gone before they could realise that it was twinkling. For a mere mortal, she's a folklore, a fairy, who'd stolen the tail of the mountain trail, leaving nothing more behind, but the footprints of small ivory slippers in pairs."