Night has well and truly fallen: a velvety black sky so thick with stars one hardly needs a lamp or torch to light their way. The moon casts its milky light over all as it rises, but this late in the night, it's the stars' light that casts the vale and the meadows beyond into gentle, silvered relief.

And it's on this grass, when Susan comes to the spring, a girl stands. Dressed in white she is, with pale golden hair spilling down her back to her hips in rippling waves. Some soft, silvery light seems to catch on her skin, her hair, her simple white gown, but despite the glow, the smile on her fair face is clear, as is the warmth in her eyes when her glance falls on Susan.