there is lambswool under my naked feet

Eloise bends, and Audril follows; swift and sure, tight around a corner. Green eyes and brown, flickering, flickering...

He's laughing. "You haven't caught me yet!" And Eloise doesn't pout.

She knows their laughter: as supple as it is hollow, as dark as it is light.

"If I catch you, isn't it over?"

Audril quiets, tenses back their brows. "Only if you say so."

Eloise laughs, now, too. "I hope you'll take at least some say in the matter. Make it interesting for me, since I have a sneaking feeling that you're the one chasing."

That angular, boxed-off grin is everything.