He ran like the wind.

It was fun. It was very fun. But now living was very much dependent on getting away, and he happened to be very attached to living.

And so, the child ran as fast as his gangly legs could move him. At the opportune moment, he pushed his momentum to slide into an adjoining passageway, rebounding off the wall to regain his former speed without much effort. If breathing weren’t instrumental in his continued escape, he would have laughed at the sound that followed his heels – his pursuer hitting the wall and scrambling. It gained him the edge, and he knew it.

Opportunity presented itself, and he scrambled over the garden walls. He landed, rump-first in a patch of green. Flowering, square-stemmed plants nearly his height towered over him as he blinked, disoriented.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel like running anymore.

Nor, it seemed, did his pursuer when she eventually caught up with him.

"FuSoYa!" his young apprentice called to him, "It’s the Elves!"

The Elder frowned, wondering what trouble this could be. No young Lunarian had ever been so problematic as the children under his guidance now. He gestured for his aide to show him, for they were ultimately his responsibility.

What he found, much to his surprise, were two of his young protégés sitting peacefully amidst the green growing plants, each staring off into space.

"How long have they been like that?" FuSoYa asked, bewildered that anything could get the younger Elf to sit still.

The gardener, who had seen the whole thing, merely shrugged, "Since they got into the catnip."