It's warm, summer is finally here and all the buds have bloomed into beautiful flowers. You somehow manage to drag Muriel out his hut and beyond the boarder of the forest, finding yourselves in a beautiful meadow where you sit together in the long grass.

You notice him idly playing with some daisies, touching their stems together before dropping them into the grass. That's when you realise he's trying to chain them. He's a big man, his fingers built for wood carving, not daintily weaving stems. But you helping him, show him how to gently thread the flowers together.

When the crown is finally finished and you lift it up and place it delicately on his head, a dusting of pink flushes Muriel's cheeks and his deep eyes drop to the ground. "Thank you," he rumbles softly.