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The warm mountain breeze tugged at Apollo’s hair and cooled the sweat drying on his neck. The small boy sat happily by the river bank, splashing his feet in its waters as the sound of its babbling filled the air along with the song of insects, frogs and birds.
He heard a peal of laughter and turned. Nahyuta was a little way away, chasing after a cloud of butterflies– his pale hair streaming behind him, shimmering like the river itself.
Apollo’s gaze was bound as if by a spell, and it was the first time he understood Nahyuta was beautiful.
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