Soft, chilly breezes. Soft steps. Naked trees. The land was white. Still, it glistened to the sun. This was his favorite season, winter. As far as he knew, seasons were something dreamers had in their worlds too. He had to wonder, though, did the seasons look the same as his world’s? He wished he could ask. Unfortunately, no dreamer was here to answer that.
A gut feeling told him he jinxed himself. Turning around, the boy realized that he did, in fact, do that. You know, I was only half-joking when I thought I wanted to ask. Dreamers will forever come off as inconvenient at first. The magician wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed their company from time to time. Only if they’re tolerable. It was time to find out if this one was or not. “As much as I can’t stand the thought of talking to them.” He muttered to himself.
He approached the dreamer and tapped their shoulder, waiting for their response. No words came out of the magician’s mouth. Just a light tap.
