Erika comes rushing upstairs, calling, "Emery, Emery, Emery." She stops in front of Emerynne, gasping for breath. "Please, can you and Annika handle the outlet for a while? The rest of us are going to start on the cured iris rhizomes here. We have a whole line of perfumes and soaps planned."

"Yes, of course," Annika answers for the both of them when Emerynne takes a moment too long to reply. Gently taking Emerynne by the elbow, Annika pulls her along on her way to the stairs that go to the store.

They have only reached halfway when Matthias appears in the backside doorway near the bottom of the stairs. As he approaches, Emerynne notices that he has another delivery – a big wicker basket full of stems with tiny, clustering leaves, bedecked in dewdrops that refract the green like minuscule emeralds.

Pausing beside him, Annika asks, "more thyme?" She plucks a small leaf, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, and leaching out its essence. Matthias nods an assent at her, to which she replies, "they smell wonderful."

By then, Emerynne has reached the second last step. She and Matthias lock gazes, and there's this suspended moment when she feels like he's studying her with as much interest as she watches him with. Finally, Emerynne says, coy, "hi..."

There's that smile of his again – not quite full, not quite bright, definitely not as joyful as the one in his Facebook profile photo. How she longs to see him beaming like that in reality, not solely in an old picture. This smile appears incomplete, somehow.

Emerynne flashes him an answering grin as they cross each other, him going up and her going down, separated by the diameter of his wicker basket. She turns enough to see him proceed upstairs, then he rounds the bend of the landing, out of her sight. There's a light tap on Emerynne's shoulder and she pivots to see a woman holding up a tube of facewash. The woman points at the yellow sticker on it, brightly promising: 'Get Ten Milliliter Tea-Tree Oil FREE!'

"Oil... where is it?" Her words are heavily accented; Emerynne recognizes the unique brogue.

"Over here," Emerynne solicitously says. She leads her to another shelf on which a number of vials of various essential oils stand. Picking the tester of the tea-tree oil, Emerynne hands it to her along with an information booklet opened to the English page. "Here you go."

Smiling, the woman takes both the items, thanking her before she calls out to a man near the 'Herbal Teas' rack who Emerynne presumes is her significant other. Moving on from them, she peers up at the staircase, wondering if Matthias already left. When he doesn't come along, she takes a place next to the free-standing rotator shelf nearest to the stairs so that she can catch him whenever he does.

From the second floor, Emerynne can hear Amelie talking like she's at a metronomic recital – a list of plant names rolling out of her in a memorized sequence. She can almost picture Matthias raptly listening and jotting it all in his red notebook. Any time now, he'll be on his way downstairs. Assertively, Emerynne tells herself to be ready, but her palms feel sweaty and her heart palpitates in her ribcage like the wings of a butterfly – fast and disjointed.

She quickly turns her back to the stairway on hearing footsteps to make sure she doesn't look like she is purposefully standing here. Sensing Matthias go past her and out the back door, Emerynne waits a beat before going after him.

"Matthias," she says, but it comes out soft, a murmur under her breath. She tries to call him again, however, his name dies at the cusp of her lips. Every syllable of the query that was to follow his name is spinning and twirling at the back of her throat – itching to be released, but unwilling to be spoken. And so, Emerynne merely ends up gawking after him with an increasing feeling of defeat. Dejected, she retreats inside to her post as salesgirl for the day.

Emery, just ask him to hang out. What's so difficult about that?

❧

Noemi Unger has to be the most persistent person Emerynne has ever met in her whole, entire life. Ever since she decided that Emerynne will be a 'great addition and wonderful asset to' the Flow State Dance Company, she has pestered her every single day about the audition applications. And with every day that Emerynne procrastinates on applying, Noemi gets more and more agitated. Another Sunday finds the two standing against the railing of an empty Hallstatt Market Boat Station.

Arms crossed across her chest, eyebrows almost meeting in her scowl, Noemi questions, "why are you putting it off? All you have to do is fill out a form and hit submit."

Emerynne flinches. "I'm sorry, okay?" she says, tone desperate, "but they also need like a video showcasing my skills or whatever."

"So make one."

Dropping her chin atop her hands folded on the railing, Emerynne watches the ripples cresting over the Hallstatt Lake. "It's not that easy."

Beside her, Noemi lets out an exasperated sound. "It's not that hard."

"I haven't danced in a long, long time," counters Emerynne, "I don't have a costume, or a scene setting, or a theme, or even a track chosen."

Emerynne feels Noemi pat her on the shoulder. "Alright then, so let's start from the track," the girl says. "What's on repeat for you right now?"

Lifting her head to turn to Noemi, Emerynne shoots her an incredulous look. "I—"

"Pick a song that you really like. Preferably something you've been listening to on repeat."

"Uh... 'Arrows' by Holy Fawn."

"No idea what it is and by whom." Shrugging, Noemi goes on, "but don't you ever feel like planning a choreography to it?"

Confused, Emerynne says, "sometimes... it is a pretty good song."

"Well, now you get to do that. Impromptu!"

Emerynne feels a cold weight harden in her stomach. "Impromptu?"

Noemi nods, reaching into the pocket of her hoodie and pulling out her phone. "Yep. Your dress is cute, just get rid of the sweater. So, that's costume off the list. I think this dock is the perfect setting. Give me your phone, will you?" Still perplexed, Emerynne hands her phone to Noemi. "We'll keep the water in the backdrop. It's gonna be beautiful. What else...?"

"The choreography?!" Emerynne's voice is a shrill warble.

Unfazed, Noemi simply beams. "Ah, that's on you, Emery. Don't think too much and let your favorite song move you," she says, taking a few steps backwards as she types something quickly on her phone. Emerynne then hears the doomgaze band Holy Fawn strumming their intro. In the meantime, Noemi holds up Emerynne's phone, and informs, "ready when you are. We're doing this right here, right now."

"What if I'm awful at impromptu choreography?" Emerynne cries over the music.

"Oh, come on. Will you let me be the judge of that? Please?" Noemi shoots back, clearly annoyed. "Just dance. We can always redo it."

Certain that there is nothing she can say to sway Noemi, Emerynne walks to the center of the dock and stretches to loosen her muscles. She pulls herself upon her toes, then drops back to her heels, and repeats the same to gauge the strength of her calves and feet. Once satisfied, Emerynne inhales and lifts her arms above her head, puts one foot in front of the other in the third position, then exhales. "Noemi," she says, determination steeling her, "play it from the top."

Noemi, bouncing on the balls of her feet, makes a sound that Emerynne can only describe as a screech. "I'm so bloody excited!"

Holy Fawn drop their first strums and barres once more, and this time, Emerynne feels the chords purl through her with an intensity that leaves her body singing. She closes her eyes, opening herself to feeling everything else. The gusts from the waters cooling her, her tendons preparing themselves, and this song – this song, beautifully familiar, always makes her feel like she's in a deep, dark forest at midnight, in midwinter, frost crackling where she steps. She is not daunted, not unnerved. It is comforting and nostalgic. It is hiraeth.

The vast, doomy cadence of the vocalist's voice melts everything around Emerynne.

She opens her eyes, ready.

In her mind, she is a dryad in those mystical woods, wild and free; free of fear, free of doubt, free of all inhibitions, prisoner to nothing. She leaps from root to rock, over creeks, over mounds, she soars among the branches and the breezes, amidst the flurry of leaves and petals and snowflakes. This is true freedom – to do what one loves, joyous and unafraid, courageous and unbound. Every drop in the sludgy bassline has her executing continuous chaînés – swift, smooth, strong. The euphony touches its apex, she glides through the air in a sissonne, lands on the toes of her right foot, and pulls off a wobbly attitude turn. Noemi's gasp is audible even in the rising crescendo; exultation puffs in Emerynne's heart despite it not being her best performance. Then, in the thick, discordant riffs to the outro, she takes a piqué after piqué, consecutive and sustained. The arches of her feet are screaming, but she powers through.

The postlude, she apprises mentally, unencumbered. An exhilarated laugh flutters from her as she spins and spins and spins, the water and the dock whirlpooling around her.

As the song reaches the end of its closing refrain, Emerynne delivers a split leap. She is zephyr, carried by the winds, higher and higher until she must return to earth, and she does. She lands in a risky first arabesque right when the track finishes and holds her pose, counting in her head. Ten seconds later, she lowers herself to both feet, standing straight-backed and glorious.

Noemi stops recording and rushes to her side. "That was awesome," she gushes, "that was so perfect! You're so fricking good!" Swiveling, she asks, "what do you think, Matthias?"

Only then does Emerynne notice the figure standing where Noemi was recording from. Her heart stops at the sight of the Frost Prince. A grin on his face, he approaches the girls, his hands clapping, making Emerynne's heart jumpstart. He comes to a stop in front of them, still grinning. This close, she notices that he has the most winsome dimples. He is moving his hands but Emerynne is held fast by his piercing stare. His eyes are as beautiful as always, glacial oceans in the cold sunlight, stirring up a flittering in her belly.

"He says that was enchanting," Noemi informs, nudging Emerynne.

Emerynne starts, tearing her gaze away from his. "Huh? Oh... right, uh..." she desists to gather herself. "Thank you. That's very kind of you."

Matthias makes a series of gestures again. Noemi translates, "he's saying he should be thanking you for the show. It was amazing."

Casting a swift glance at Noemi, Emerynne catches her foxy smirk. To Matthias, she says, "I really appreciate that. Honestly, means a lot..." His smile is unlawfully attractive. Whatever omniscient entity granted her wish to see a genuine smile on Matthias has terrible timing, because right now, all she wants to do is be out of his sight before she makes a fool of herself. "I'd love to show you guys a new dance, but I've got a curfew. So... Noemi, we should get going." Emerynne collects her sweater and satchel from the floor, grabbing Noemi's arm as she hurries past Matthias.

"What—" Noemi begins, but Emerynne yanks her away.

Looking over her shoulder, she waves at Matthias, calling, "see you around!"

Stumbling and struggling after Emerynne, Noemi frees herself from her hold. "Emery, you're gonna make me sprain my ankle," she complains. "What was all that about?"

Noemi keeps asking Emerynne to wait, but her implorations fall on deaf ears. Emerynne only slows down when they are a good distance away from the dock. Then she whirls around, startling Noemi who stops short. Taking a deep breath, she divulges, "I might have a little crush on Matthias."

"Excuse me?"

"It's probably hormones and infatuation, but I find myself thinking about him way too often for it to be normal."

"OH. MY. GOD!"

Here's the track that Emery dances to; a mix of contemporary and ballet. I don't know how one would choreograph to this, but if anyone can do it, it's Emerynne Kaufmann.

https://youtu.be/5qCJU96SCQc