The wedding had long since ended. The happy newly-weds were gone, the aisle empty. Only a few people remained, old friends reminiscing as night slowly settled over the scene. But even they began to give in to exhaustion.

Everyone was gone- except for two. You and Fiddlepat remained, intertwined in a gentle slow dance. His hand rested on your waist, fingers twitching as you spun around slowly in the dew-speckled grass. Fireflies danced in the grass, flickering lowly as if to illuminate your swaying figures.

It didn't seem as if either of you registered how late it really was. The serene surroundings of the quiet wedding was otherworldly. Fiddlepat couldn't help but imagine you on that alter. He silently cheered that it was so dark, otherwise the heat on his face would've been unbearable.

He'd never been this quiet around you before. The only sounds were the crickets and the occasional owl. It was oddly peaceful.