A/N: Happy Summertime Fic-Exchange to my Santee, lavendercookie! I'm happy to say that your wish list was right up my alley, so without any further waiting, here is your story. I hope you don't mind the length! Have yourself have a very merry summer!

The forest was quiet.

Which was exactly how he liked it.

The axe came down with a crack to split that silence in half. For Luke that first swing was as satisfying as taking the first bite of a long awaited meal. Though the bark lessened the impact the blade would still embed itself solidly into the woody flesh. One good yank and the hatchet would be free again, high on the backswing, and slamming home for another chop. With its protective shield no more the wood begins to give, spitting back splinters and chips in a last ditch attempt to defend itself against the one who would cut at it.

It was man versus nature.

The fissure would grow; the sound changing as the tree grew weakened, bending to his will and his blade. Branches snapping, trunk crackling, he would release one last and euphoric cry upon that final swing and then— and then!

"Kyaa-!"

"Kyaa?" Luke repeated, staggering mid-swing.

He was blinking in rapt confusion at the first tree to ever scream back at him when he missed his chance to deliver the final blow. The proud maple was already creaking and beginning to bow. He ducked out of the way the moment the shaft snapped mightily, releasing a burst of dry dagger-like shards into the space he'd once occupied.

The tree was felled, crashing down to the earth from which it was born. When the dust cleared and he'd brushed himself clean of the debris he moved to survey his victory.

That was when he saw it. Something blue, moving- vaguely human-shaped and producing short puffing coughs as a tiny excited dog might. When he realized that he recognized the thing his heart nearly shot out of his chest.

"Candace!" He scrambled for her, losing his footing but saving himself mid-fall. She was around the opposite side of the tree, sat in a circle of broken branches and loose leaves. A beam of sunlight had broken through the new gap in the canopy and was landing right on her, igniting the dust motes as they continued to float like a halo. Luke reached her side just in time to catch her hiccupping cough full on in the face. It was like a kitten sneezing; soft and ineffectual.

"Are you alright? I didn't see you there!" He pressed on, trying to waft away some of the dust that lay in the air between them. His glove only released further particles.

"I-I'm fine," she coughed again, reaching to cover her mouth this time, her hand jerking strangely as she did.

At that Luke began to fret. He'd known Candace nearly all his life and had always considered her delicate and mature. When they were young, the better part of the island children would play in the sand, rough house, or build mud cakes, but Candace and her sister had stood outside the circle; one with her nose tucked shyly between the pages of some thick book and the other raucously proclaiming the other children to be dirty or uncouth. That's not to say that they weren't friends- Luke was friends with everyone- but their interactions had always been somewhat reserved. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen her outside of the tailors' walls and he failed to place it. Her skin was white, almost translucent, and the grime that gathered only seemed to mar her characteristic pristineness.

"What are you doing out here," he followed to ask, still bemused by her presence. He helped her to stand with one hand at her elbow and the other around her waist. She turned a pretty shade of pink as he did so but did not force him away.

"I…walk out here sometimes…"

"But I'm always out here," he laughed, dusting her skirt off next "and I've never seen you."

She smiled although the expression was a shy fluttering thing. "You're always working, aren't you Luke…"

The meaning of her words was lost on him, but the smile reassured him that her comment was affectionate and so he laughed again, "Yeah, I guess so!"

After the felling of the tree and their short exchange of words the forest had returned to its earlier stillness. Of an average day Luke would continue to disrupt it, creating stump after stump, but he was unusually appreciative of it as it seemed to soothe Candace.

Despite her sputtered assurances that she would be fine on her own, Luke took it upon himself to see her home. She didn't appear to have any superficial wounds but a lady like her would be sure to be shaken up by such a brush with danger and it was his duty in part as gentleman and instigator to make sure she got back safely. He explained as much as he walked her, grinning like a fool in the face of her circumspect blushing. They parted at the entrance to Shelley's shop, she nodding her thanks and disappearing inside and he continuing to smile as the door swung shut two inches from his nose.

The remaining hours of his work were interspersed with the warm nostalgic feelings of remembered childhood.

It wasn't until later that evening that the consequence of his earlier escapade was realized.

Luke was sat at the thick wooden table across from Bo while his father sat at the head. The furniture was unadorned but for their utensils and plates piled high with meat and potatoes. As per every evening they held a short prayer for the Goddess and tonight it was Bo's turn. He was half-way through his thanksgiving when the front door to the shop front hammered open.

The origin of the force was small, pink-haired, and furious. Bo had yelped while Dale remained immovable.

"Luna?" Luke examined aloud. The girl had already charged in and taken a handful of his vest in her grip before he'd managed to respond effectively to her appearance.

"You," she spat, her blue eyes burning, "You absolute lout!" The tiny fists knotted in his clothes shook him with surprising strength. Bo had gotten up to close the clattering door, while finally Dale stood at the girl's side and rested a large hand over her diminutive shoulder. His father absolutely dwarfed Luna. Though she showed no sign of fear she did release her hold on his shirt.

"What seems to be the problem here?"

Her glare remained on Luke. "Your son, like the idiot monkey that he is, dropped a tree on my sister!"

Luke was frozen by his shock, surprised by the accusation. The memory of the morning's event seemed dim after an eventful day of labouring. He and Candace had met under irregular circumstances, but he'd walked her home and made sure she was okay. His heart was a lump in his throat to hear otherwise.

Meanwhile Dale, a true diplomat of unshakeable integrity, had turned his gaze on him as though to discern the truth of the matter. One look at his son and he knew exactly what had transpired. His eyebrows knit and his lips thinned into a firm line.

"He's a danger and a menace, and I want him to pay!" Luna continued ferociously until the hand on her shoulder patted gently.

"That'll do, I'll deal with this."

She gazed up at Dale with shrewd eyes before shooting Luke one final look of disdain and turning on her heel. Bo let her out while hiding behind the door.

Luke, still sat in his chair, lifted his head mechanically. Dale returned to his seat and laced his fingers on the table; a bridge across their quickly cooling meal.

"What happened?"

Luke was suddenly unfrozen, remembering a hundred scenarios when he'd faced his stalwart father for moral direction. "It was an accident. I thought she was okay."

Dale only nodded. "One month. No axe."

Luke's heart sank. "But Dad-"

Dale shook his head slowly, "One month. You need to show that you can repent. No axe."

Their meal was finished with heavy silence. Bo offered Luke a look of sincere apology, knowing that he would be picking up some of his duties during the course of his punishment. Luke returned the gesture with a smile and a shrug, despite his dismay.

He decided retire to bed early.

The next day, his belt light but for a small hand hatchet that hung there, he visited the tailor shop again. He walked into the store to the tinkling of bells and the wishful thought that Luna might be elsewhere. He had a feeling that what little preparation he'd done to face her again might be insufficient. He breathed a relieved sigh when Shelley appeared behind the counter instead. She shuffled out to meet him with a smile like sunshine.

"Ah Luke, she's in the back here," her warm hand took hold of his forearm and pulled him towards the inner rooms. His jaw worked as he tried to find his words.

"Is Candace here? I'm really sorry, I just wanted to check on her,"

"Yes, yes dear, she's just in there. Go on," she released him to wave him inside.

After walking through the store and its rows of colour and clothing he shouldn't have been surprised to enter upon rafts of fabric and swatches that were strewn up like festival bunting around the room. It was a workshop just like his, he recognized the platform of tools and appliances necessary in completing a job as well as those projects left sorely unfinished. Despite how desperately out of place he was here he felt somewhat more at ease in recognizing the similarities.

Shelley had not followed him in, and Candace was nowhere to be seen.

"Hellooo…" he called, hushed in spite of his purpose. His boot falls seemed especially heavy in the stillness.

A pair of big blue eyes appeared between hanging folds of fabric.

"L-Luke?" she stammered, apparently as surprised to see him as he was to have her pop her head out.

"Hey Candace!" he greeted in return, a little too boisterously perhaps since she disappeared again. The fabric must have covered much of the room since he jumped for a second time when she resurfaced behind him.

"Sorry, I was, um, working."

"Awesome," he answered automatically. He didn't dare let his envy show now that he was on obligatory leave. She stood waiting for him to speak, seeming none the wiser. Luna must not have gone into much detail concerning her visit. "How are you?" He continued carefully.

Candace moved awkwardly to tuck her hands behind her skirts. "I'm okay."

Luke had always acknowledged that he was not the brightest amongst his peers. He excelled in other ways and had never found himself to be lacking. But even he could detect some strangeness to Candace now. It went beyond her usual shyness; a sense of false confidence that didn't suit her. He remembered back in the woods how she'd moved in a similar way. Almost like a wounded animal.

Holding her gaze he reached for her arm and drew it toward him. She protested with a squeak followed by a wince. The hand was tied up with thick bandage which bound every finger but index and thumb together. She was pink again but she didn't pull the hand away.

"It's fine really, only a sprain."

"Aw geez," he murmured, "I'm so sorry Candace, I had no idea you were hurt."

"It's fine," she repeated again, a little stronger this time, "I don't want you to feel badly."

"No wonder Luna was shouting…"

"M-my sister?" Candace peered at him with regret deeply engraved in every feature, "Oh, I'm sorry…"

Luke managed to laugh, "I deserved it." He relinquished her hand and she cradled it in the other. Now that the secret was out she wasn't so intent on hiding the injury. They stood in a strangely comfortable silence, a slight breeze from some window beyond ruffling the sheaves of fabric that were suspended.

"Perhaps you would like a cup of tea..?" Candace offered politely.

Having no work to get back to and still wanting to apologize, he nodded. "Awesome."

They sat in a different room. This one that was just as girlish and decorated by sewing paraphernalia, but the cool blues and uncluttered nature gave it a better sense of order. The table was low to the ground and circled by fluffy cushions. Candace served the tea while bracing the tray in the crook of her arm until Luke helpfully retrieved it.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Sorry, I didn't think. I should have made the tea for you," he lamented. He remembered how Luna had called him a lout.

Candace laughed; a light tinkling sound hidden behind her bandaged hand, "In my house? Don't be silly."

They sipped their tea in unison, Luke more than a little wary of the way the pretty porcelain cup and saucer all but disappeared between his big calloused hands, but the taste soon banished the thought. Soon he was relaxing with his legs languidly crossed and his inquiring gaze drifting about the recently undiscovered room.

His eyes landed on something close-at-hand, all white and frills with a needle passed through the middle.

"Whoa, what's this, a voodoo doll or something?" he laughed, setting his tea back to pick the thing up. "I didn't have you down as the black magic type." Rather than retain its vaguely humanoid shape the parcel unrolled to reveal a length that dropped down into his lap. He studied the needle with intent, trying to guess at its purpose. After a moment of pointless deliberation he shrugged towards Candace.

"Ah, i-it's my work," she said hesitantly, holding her mild smile in place. "I can't do much more then crotchet while…my hand…" she trailed off.

"Oh," Luke blinked, the crotchet drooping as he lowered it, "Aw darn it Candace, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head the moment his apology was finished; heavy braids swinging. "No, it's okay, I like to crotchet."

Luke took a moment to purse his lips in contemplation; should he fight her modesty or accept that he was lucky she didn't hold it against him? In the end he chose the latter, setting her work down carefully as though it might break.

"In that case maybe you should teach me too. I'm going to be out of commission for a while, and I hate being bored."

"Out of commission?" she parroted, cradling her cup just under her chin so that the steam curled in front of her face, "You want to learn?"

Luke grinned toothily, "If you think you could teach me."

It wasn't exactly a joke. In spending time with Candace he might be able to make right his wrong, give his sabbatical some meaning. It was also true that he was likely to go stir-crazy on his own.

Still, it was no small surprise when Candace agreed.

The following weeks were spent in slow serenity. It was an unfamiliar change for Luke, his usual fast-paced lifestyle of action and intrigue coming to pause however anticipated did leave him in a state of bewildered uncertainty. Luck would have it that Candace was particularly adept and soothing him however. Through her teaching he managed to focus some of that unspent energy on creating.

The yarn and needle while reasonably simple tools, seemed confounding when put into his clumsy hands. At first his project was a formless mess of knots and imperfections, but he was relieved to watch her pull a single thread and unravel any mistakes. Through her gentle reminders, and patient explanations he'd managed to make way on a rather handsome scarf.

His visits were often punctuated by others, Shelley poking her head in with a generous offering of refreshments, or Luna sitting on the bed opposite with a daunting quietude that could only serve as the calm before the storm. After only a few short days it seemed that all of the tailors' residents had become used to his recurring presence, alternatively he'd found himself accustomed to the organized chaos of the atelier.

But perhaps it was the Candace who'd changed the most. Her usual wariness had bloomed into a cool composure. Her smiles were easy, her laughter uninhibited, and her blushing reserved for the rare occasion of humiliation, usually instigated during one of Luna's visits.

When she wasn't glaring daggers into the side of his head Luna was oft to insinuate that he held some secret ambition behind his visitations to Candace's room. Luke knew that this was the little sister's way of defending her sibling's virtue however misguided her efforts might be, but Candace seemed especially distraught that he might become offended.

It was one such day that he finally put her worries to rest.

"You know Selena?" He started, tugging his fingers apart from where they'd become tied between strings. Candace helpfully rewound the loosened yarn into loops.

"I know her," came the reply.

"Well, I sort of have my eye on her," he chuckled, the sound of his own sheepishness startling him.

Candace returned to her own project; hands looping, needle hooking thread and pulling a perfect double stitch.

"She's a lovely woman."

"Right? She dances at the bar, which is where we met, and wow." He had gotten tangled again. Candace set her piece down to assist him again. "She can be a bit loud at times but I think that's because she's secretly shy."

Using her one good hand she plucked the string from where it had wrapped between his fingers. When she had finished she showed him one of her rare but honest smiles. "I hope you can tell her how you feel, Luke."

"Maybe," he answered unhurriedly, with a light shrug. He performed the next three stitches with careful precision. "I'm still working on that part."

Their appointments usually ran like clockwork. Island people were always wont to have their routine structured and unvaried, but now and again real life got in the way. He ended up tumbling into the tailor's shop, past the fabric chamber, and into Candace's bedroom with alarming speed. She turned to him with a shriek.

"Hey Candace," he gasped for breath, "Bo was getting in a muddle with the clinometer and then Dad called us back to haul out some pole timber, and I—"

Candace was staring at him with cheeks flaming. Her hair hung in loose strands about her pale shoulders and she was clutching something blue to her chest.

"L-Luke, I didn't think you were coming!"

"Whoa," he gawked, as though he'd never seen her before. When he finally remembered himself he found the sagacity to turn around. Candace was not in a particularly scandalous state of undress but that didn't change the fact that in this moment he felt acutely... Loutish.

"It's okay Luke…"

He turned around as slowly as he could. The blue thing Candace had been holding was her cardigan, other than that piece she'd been entirely clothed the entire time. Her hair however remained unbound. A hand found the back of his neck and rubbed.

"Sorry, I was uh rushing to get here and then…" Candace was already moving away to bring out their supplies and related creations; her heavy hair passed in front of her arms at every movement and hung there until she could toss it away. "Aren't you going to, you know, tie that up like usual?"

"Hmm?" She blinked back at him until she understood. Her good hand grabbed a lock of the hair and tried to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks. "L-Luna usually does it for me since…" she trailed off, unwilling to bring up the subject again, "but she's not here."

Luke studied her seriously. She was hiding her bandaged hand again, but perhaps that was simply down to the copious amount of hair she actually had. Somehow he'd never noticed before. A thought suddenly struck him. He'd learnt how to crotchet, how different could it be to braid a woman's hair? He was already asking before he had the chance to think better of it.

"Should I?"

"…W-what?"

"Here, sit down," he stepped over to the table and its cushions, where the tell-tale hair bands were already waiting. "Yeah, no problem."

Candace hesitated a moment longer, her good hand passing over the clutched length of hair thoughtfully. Without saying anything more she followed him and sat upon one of the cushions. Her head bowed and mane gleaming, she waited for him to begin.

The task now at hand he began to wonder how to proceed. He mustered all of his intellect to guess and swept half of her hair past her shoulder, revealing a white slope of neck. He twisted the remaining hair and let go, watching it unravel.

"Um, Luke, separate it into three parts then pass each side over the middle…" she directed, her teaching voice reaching him even as her shoulders curled.

"Right," he nodded.

At first his fingers were as clumsy as ever, their only true ability seeming to be in the rugged craft of carpentry, but after a few tries he seemed to understand the concept. The hair was to be woven in and under itself; the very act of doing so proved as therapeutic as the crotchet had been. But there was more. As he spun the hair into its known shape more of Candace was made visible. The shape of her jawline, the curve of her slightly pink ear- the hair was pulled back like a curtain to reveal the dancer hidden within. When he reached the end and fumbled for the tie to finish his work she stretched for it at the same time.

The door he had burst through mere moments ago swung on its hinges again. Luna, come to watch over them, had taken one look at the situation and adapted an expression like thunder.

"What is this?!"

Candace turned her head sharply, the movement pulling her half-tied hair until it began to loosen once more.

"—Luna?"

The pink-haired firecracker barely half his size was wheeling on Luke and jabbing a rigid finger into his all-too unprotected ribcage. "I knew you had some ulterior motive! I just knew it!"

"Ow, hey," He responded, recoiling as another jab found a particularly soft spot, "I was only helping!"

"He's telling the truth Luna, please stop!" Candace pleaded.

Luna was like some sort of ninja, disguised in pigtails and a heavily ruffled dress but no less talented in seeking out exact pressure points to induce the most pain. Her every word was punctuated by an attack. Eventually his resistance began to give.

"—Luna!"

"Ow, ow! I'm sorry!"

In an attempt to get away he took two steps backward, bumping into the bed and redirecting himself. Luna herded him toward the door. Over her shoulder Candace watched on with subdued horror. Still attempting to shield himself, Luke tried to reassure her with a smile. As to whether it succeeded or not he would never know.

He ran.

Selena was on the docks sat with her feet dangling over the water. After being chased out of the tailors' Luke wasn't feeling at his most charismatic, but glimpsing her unmistakable silhouette lit by the low dipping sun, his body were moving before his mind could think better of it. His boots thumped in time with his heart across the well-worn planks. She didn't turn to meet his eyes when he sat down beside her.

"Hello Luke," she greeted, as cool as ever.

"Hey," he greeted in return, trying a smile. She didn't seem to take much notice. "Thinking about home again?"

That got her attention; she shot him a withering look, one that in his opinion was far too sharp not to be hiding something.

"As if."

Luke waited for her to simmer. His relationship with Selena had been slow blossom. Since meeting her at the bar he'd managed to fall into a crowd of other admirers that she paid little heed to. It was only through premeditated happenstance that he'd succeeded in setting himself apart. He'd long since decided that the best way to approach her was as friends first.

"Why don't you invite them to visit?" He asked. He'd never quite understood the complications between her and her parents. If he had the chance to see his mother he'd take it no question.

"I ran away from home, Luke, it's not that simple," she sneered. Even with lip curled she was still beautiful. She composed herself with a swish of a hand through her hair. "Forget my problems, what's with you? You're normally elbow deep in sawdust by this hour." Her hooded eyes bore into him with an intensity that made his skin hot and his palms sweaty. He was grinning even as the less than pleasant answer passed his lips.

"I'm on axe-arrest. Candace got injured while I wasn't paying attention and now she's teaching me to crotchet. At least she is when Luna's not trying to chew a chunk outta me." He rubbed his rib-cage for effect. Selena stared for an extended minute then burst out laughing. Well-manicured fingers clutched at her sides as she bent in hilarity.

"What is that? Crotchet? Luke, you're too much!"

He joined in her laughter with his own thoughtful chuckle; baritone to her soprano. "Is it funny? I kinda like it. Candace is a great teacher."

"Well I'm sure she is, but crotchet- knitting? It just doesn't seem to suit you. Thow Luna into the equation and I really cannot imagine it!" She wiped at an eye affectedly. "Ah, thank you, I really did need cheering up."

Luke's smile was automatic, a trained reaction to pleasing her, though for whatever reason today it seemed to pull at this corners of his mouth unnaturally.

"Any time."

Luna allowed their next lessons to continue as normal. Candace didn't say anything as to why and he wasn't sure he wanted to ask. Whatever the case, she did not appear the entire day. Shelley served tea and homemade cake, and they continued to work.

His scarf was nearly 40 inches long. Still a little shorter than the standard, but thanks to hours of practicing the technique came quicker to him now. It would be finished soon. Candace's sprain was healing up nicely as well. He'd seen her unwind the bandages and test the strength in her hands and fingers before catching his eyes and quickly re-wrapping it.

One afternoon he asked, "How is it feeling now? Think you'll be able to sew again soon?"

Candace appeared surprised by the question, as though the topic were taboo. "It's much lighter now. I can move my fingers more easily…"

"That's great!" he showed her an enthused thumbs-up, finally able to keep from becoming entangled within his own yarn. "I'm really relieved; I thought it would take longer. That I'd be back at work before you were better, or worse still that your hand would be broken forever."

Her hands on the needle and yarn stopped moving, Luke looked up from the scarf again to see her pale face drawn into an expression he didn't recognize on her.

"Luke… Do you come here every day because you felt guilty?"

"What?" he asked, uncomprehending. This time he did get tangled.

"No, nothing… never mind," she withdrew, gaze shifting away. The needle swooped and hooked.

Luke knotted the yarn in three places trying to set himself free.

Selena was waiting for him in the square. They'd arranged to meet the day before. It was the first time since that fateful day that he'd decided not to meet with Candace for his crocheting lesson.

She turned to see him as he took the steps two at a time in her direction. She was leaning prettily, her curves exaggerated and her exotic eyes smiling. When he reached her she held out her hand.

"Did you bring what I asked?"

Luke stopped short, his jaw falling open, "Uh, what did you ask for?"

She sighed noisily, her hands going to her waist instead, "The lily, Luke."

He slapped his forehead, "Aw no, I forgot!"

The day was bright and young; the sun already warm despite the hour. He wasn't sure where the courage had come from but he'd made himself a promise: today he would tell her. Despite the less than ideal beginning he was once again tripping over his words when she took his arm and guided him towards the nearby trees. A checked picnic blanket was spread pre-emptively under the largest oak, a large basket sat on its middle. The setup reeked of Kathy . She'd known about his crush since the very first encounter at the bar and had henceforth done everything within her power to put them together. After she and Owen had become a couple she seemed to think it was for the best that she fix up his friend.

Selena and he sat down opposite each other with the basket in between. She must have been primed on its contents since she immediately opened it and fished out a bottle and matching glasses, passing the former to him to do the honours.

He took it and pulled the cork between his teeth, but he was distracted somehow.

Selena was in front of him, her dark skin radiant in the sun and her hair groomed to a perfected gloss-shine. For the first time all of her attention was focused on him.

And all he could think of was Candace.

Luke poured the glasses; two equal measures of sparking liquid and not a drop spilled. Candace would be at home on her own, hand aching as she tested its strength. Perhaps Luna would appear to keep her company. Perhaps she'd go to gloat that she was right all along, that he'd never held good intentions.

There was no denying that he felt guilty. They were the same; their hands were their livelihood. In risking hers he'd had to give up his, and yet somewhere along the way his punishment had become his pleasure. Candace offered him a sense of peace and belonging that was entirely her own. He'd made a mistake in always considering her too mature or too ladylike; in truth all that she had ever been was herself. Luna chose to protect her for this very reason. That undisguised gentleness seemed vulnerable, and yet it was strength in itself. In his lessons with her he'd learned so much more than how to knot string.

Selena cleared her throat, her glass poised alongside his. She seemed to know that he hadn't heard the last thing she'd said. "Where are you today?" she asked irritably, though her eyebrows creased in concern.

"Sorry," he murmured, clinking their glasses finally. He put on a smile and returned his concentration to her.

Selena burned nearly as bright as the sun. With her wine-coloured hair and dusky skin she was a veritable goddess made mortal. Her fiery attitude only served to further the likeness.

When it came to Candace, she was more like the moon. She waxed and waned, took the stage and then hid from it, but her nature remained unchanging.

So was he worried or was he satisfied? The conflict of emotion was building a storm inside his chest.

"Luke," Selena called, none too gently. Her touch to his bicep shocked him out of his reverie anew.

Looking deep into her eyes he noticed a strange thing. Her presence, closeness, even the light contact on his arm- his reaction was not only delayed but different entirely. He was calm, collected; devoid of the familiar sweating palms and racing heartbeat. His usual desire to impress her was missing. He was far too concerned for Candace's wellbeing to be bothered by such a petty goal. Watching Selena wait for his response he realised how unfair he was being to her.

"I'm sorry Selena," he apologized again, handing her his glass and standing up quickly. "I have to go."

"—What?" Her expression was stunned before it was angry.

"Sorry, I'll make it up to you!" He called over his shoulder, already racing away. As he ran he had to wonder whether he was creating more guilt by leaving Selena as well. But something in his gut told him such concerns could wait. He was needed somewhere else much more urgently.

Candace and Luna were in the sewing room. He'd barely stopped to greet Shelley before he burst in on them conversing over a pattern. Both sisters wore twin expressions of surprise but it was Candace who spoke first, taking a step toward him.

"Luke? What's the matter?"

Luna was next, scorn sneaking into her tone, "I thought you weren't coming today, what now?"

It had been a short sprint but the effort had left him panting. There was moisture alone his hairline where his bandana was bound tight.

Candace's hand was not bandaged today. Though she appeared to favour the other she was using it as normal. Relief flooded his senses. He reached for her unwrapped fingers and held them lightly between his own. She produced a soft squeak of distress, her cheeks flushing, while his heart began to pound.

"Thank goodness," he murmured quietly.

It was strange, his expectations proved rather small-minded. The realization that hit him then did not come accompanied by lightning or some great tremor. The epiphany bloomed within his chest like the warmth from a small fire, spreading slow and comfortably. In that instance everything made sense.

"I guess I was running late again," he began, smiling at the joke however weak. She moved her lips to speak again but he'd silenced her with a shake of his head. He wanted her to listen while he still had the words. "You're all better now, so I probably won't be coming around so much anymore." In an instant Candace showed him an expression that was hurt crossed with reluctant understanding and it made his mouth dry. Still he forged ahead.

"When dad signed me off tree-felling I had no idea what I was going to do with myself. It's not like I don't enjoy the other jobs- carpentry is my life, but my axe and me… Being out there is just such a rush." While Candace continued to listen patiently Luna had begun to tap her foot until he sensed he'd digressed. He took a breath. "What I'm trying to say is that being here and learning from you has given me some purpose, and it's been really fun. I just wish it hadn't taken my stupid mistake to make it happen."

"Luke…"

"I won't come here anymore because I know you're just the same. Your work is important to you and I'd only be getting in the way. But… I don't want it to end here—" He checked himself from clenching her hand too tightly. His words were clumsy, inept, and his cheeks burned with the effort, but no matter what he wanted to share what he'd learned with her. "I want to see you more, I want to spend more time together! After all this time, I think I—No, I know I-!"

Luna interrupted suddenly, pigtails tossing as she shook on the spot. "Whoa, hold it right there!" Both Luke and Candace seemed to deflate, the headiness of the moment ruined. But after a long stare Luna relented with a sigh. "I get it. I was wrong. This isn't something I should be here for so…" She took two steps toward the exit, sharing a warm look with her sister then nodding to Luke with her countenance drawn. His disappointment soon turned to disbelief when he realized that by interrupting, choosing to leave, and saying nothing more, what Luna was really doing was offering her blessing.

"Good luck, sis," she scoffed, although the sound was somehow gentle.

Candace was quiet, her face still flushed as their hands were connected. Her eyes danced from the floor to his shoulder, then finally back to his face; their gaze locking as a smile threatened to break free.

"What about Selena?" she asked cautiously.

"I'll explain everything," he frowned, feeling his guilt rise again. Candace's magic however soothed him in an instant; her free hand brushing along his cheek. For the first time he considered the idea that she might actually reciprocate his feelings.

"…Can I say it now?"

"Y-yes…"

"Candace, I love you."

Her smile was radiant. "I do too."

The forest was quiet, untouched after the dawn had blanketed it in a fine dew. Luke's axe was poised for duty in the hard stump of a shorn maple but for now it remained where it was. His new routine kept him enjoying the calm for a few minutes longer. Hand in hand, Candace and he would walk. They would talk about anything and nothing, enjoying the peace and familiarity of what had become their woods. In the spring they'd carry a picnic while in the winter they wore matching crocheted scarfs.

The trees, both young and old, green and withering, were their only audience.