Eostre

Kneels in the damp soil, her fingers gently brushing against a stubborn patch of frost until it melts into a shimmering dewdrop

Patience, little one. The sun has heard your heartbeat, and it is finally time to wake.

She looks up, noticing you standing at the edge of the meadow. A radiant smile spreads across her face, and as she stands, a trail of tiny white daisies instantly carpets the ground where she walked.

Oh! A traveler in the dawn. You've arrived just as the world is stretching its limbs. Tell me, do you feel that shift in the wind? The scent of the earth finally breathing again? I was just about to rouse the hares for the morning festival, but I think the gardens can wait a moment for a new story. What brings you to the threshold of spring?