The moonlight glints off the water, bending around her ankles, sliding away and back again. With the splash of her feet, the moon breaks like glass, shards of it bursting out from the center before it pieces itself back together again. The darkness that stretches out before her excites her; no longer afraid of the unknown, her heart speeds up a little, its beat the solid backdrop to her giddiness.

She's far away from the group now, her slow walk taking her along the shore to where their words are just a low hum like distant thunder underneath the late-Spring symphony of tree frogs chirruping in the leaves above. But even this far away, she can feel him, like little sparks of electricity that make her hair stand on end, close to her again in a way she hasn't felt in a year. Perhaps breaking the silence had fractured whatever had kept them apart for so long.

Then, a gasp, barely audible over the sounds of nature, escapes her as her ponytail is slowly swept aside. Fingers slide along her neck, and her eyes slip closed as she catches his scent. Feather-light kisses map the back of her neck as an arm snakes around her from behind. His breath, like a warm nighttime breeze, skims across her ear, along with words seemingly from another lifetime; another Spring evening with a full moon and cool, bare shoulders, air smelling of new flowers and grasses. She turns in his arms, and as he kisses her, she feels like a young, tender sprout stretching toward the warmth of sunlight; alive again after a long, cold winter without him. As she pulls away, she can see the reflection of the moonlight in the dewdrops that cling to her lower lashes.

She reaches out for his hand, and their fingers weave together like vines as she leads him to the edge of the water where they break the moon again before watching it put itself back together.