Submission (#451) Approved

I have written a piece using Daere and Bite:

Winter becomes spring. Spring becomes summer, summer becomes autumn, and autumn becomes winter again. Bloomed. Grown. Weakened. Died. Daere had seen many blooms and had not felt young in quite a few blooms had well. As he sat by the fire, warm cup of cocoa in hand, he pondered. He pondered his life and of how it was being spent. With childhood wonderment long gone, it seemed he was only capable of indulging in shallow pleasures, everyday gratification, lacking in substance. Weighed down with the monotony of modern life; a job, a mortgage, a lack of true freedom. The freedom of nature, the freedom of not being constricted and strangled by expectations and requirements. He sat for hours, reminiscent of his younger life where he would trek through the woods carefree and just be at peace with the animals and the plants. The whistle of a passing breeze, the song of a content bird, the shine of sunlight through morning’s dew, the comforting press of fertile soil against his feet.
“Hey, you ok?”
Bite stood leaning against the doorway, a blanket wrapped around their shoulder. Snarl sat inside questioningly with their head tilted.
“Yeah, just thinking.”
He got up and embraced them.
Daere couldn’t stop thinking about it, the possibility of liberty. An escape from the emptiness. The day was cool and calm, yet something inside of him snapped. Bite had gone to the terramart so he threw on a coat and ventured into the nearby woods. Nostalgia hit like a wave, the feel of the grass, the sound of the leaves, the smell of pine, and the sight of light piercing the canopy. A skirkling scampered by as he bent down feeding wild berries to Styx, who tore through them. He frolicked further, time losing its meaning to him. Light began to fade as clouds overcast, yet he continued into a meadow. A plantem had recently been nearby based on the state of the flowers, still, many beautiful petals danced in the wind. He heard rain approach and looked around to see lightning strike a while away. He knew he would have to return home soon, but he wanted to savour the fleeting moment. He began the Journey home and was near the edge of the woods, rain lashing against his feathers. Then he heard an indescribable cacophony of sounds emanating from the west side of the meadow; a monstrous roar, the cry of a plantem fawn then this impossible sound of ripping as though reality itself was being torn. Something was there. He turned and fled. Nothing else mattered but getting back. Though faded, senses blurred. He just had to go faster, just had to get away.
Daere burst through the front door alarming Bite. He fell into them and just held them. And they held him back. He remembered why he did what he normally did. Why he worked and why he came every day. Bite. Winter becomes spring. Spring becomes summer, summer becomes autumn, and autumn becomes winter again. Bloomed. Grown. Weakened. Died. Daere had seen many blooms but he knew he would see many more with Bite at his side.