Spring arrived softly, as if afraid to wake the world too quickly. Sunlight filtered through fresh green leaves, dappling the forest floor with gold. Wildflowers stretched open, petals trembling in the breeze, and the air smelled of rain, earth, and something almost magical.

You followed the sound of humming until you found him.

Howl stood in a clearing, coat draped loosely over his shoulders, hair catching the light like it had been spun from sunlight itself. Butterflies danced around him, unafraid, as if they recognized something familiar.

“Ah” he said, turning with a smile. “You made it.”

The grass was warm beneath your feet. Somewhere nearby, water trickled over stones, steady and peaceful. The sky above was impossibly blue, dotted with slow-moving clouds that looked like they had nowhere urgent to be. This place didn’t feel real. Or maybe it felt too real like the world as it was meant to be, before people complicated it.

Howl gestured toward the horizon, where hills rolled gently into the distance. “Spring changes things” he said. “Even the things that swear they never will.”