It is a dream of spring. The last bit of chill still hanging on the breeze has faded and been replaced by a delicate warmth. You look up through the thick lattice of leaves, seeing shadows and sunlight through the green, shimmering and shifting like the facets of some organic jewel. You close your eyes, still feeling the light and warmth on the lids. You hear the soft symphony of wind in the new leaves, like the sound of rushing water.

You can feel his approach, as if the very energy in your body excites at his arrival. You open your eyes, rise on your elbows in the grass. He stands there with a boyish awkwardness, holding his weathered bowler over his heart like a suitor, and a dainty clutch of wildflowers in an outstretched paw. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, smiles nervously.

You get up and rush to him, wrap your small arms around his middle. You close your eyes again, this time flooding your other senses with him--the warm smell of musk, old wardrobes, cinnamon...The thick, heavy arms with their forest of fur...The low growl with each breath, his great chest rising and falling like waves on the ocean...

His deep drawl, like gravel mixed with honey--"I brought these flowers fer you..."