Mavis was taller than Sylene, but the younger boy was undeniably faster. At first, Mavis managed to keep up, his longer stride helping him bridge the gap. But it didn't take long before his pace began to falter. Without a word, Sylene swept him into his arms with surprising ease, as if carrying someone of Mavis' size was nothing. Mavis' eyes sparkled, wide with admiration and a hint of embarrassment.
His feet—clad only in thin house slippers—were scratched and red from the cold. Snow clung to the fabric, and the icy ground had bitten into his skin with every step. Thankfully, he hadn't run long before Sylene lifted him. Still, it had slowed them down.
The wind caressed Mavis' hair as they moved swiftly through the night. He leaned into the warmth of Sylene's chest, letting his gaze wander to the boy's face. When the wind pushed back Sylene's hood, moonlight caught on his black hair, making the tips appear silver, as if the moon itself had kissed him.
