Ah, imagine a silver moon hanging low, and a single elf, hair like woven stars, lifts her fingertips. From her palm, soft light spills, and the air shivers with color. The rainbows, shy and bright, lift from the earth, twirling in slow arcs, humming a tune that only the night breeze can hear. They glide over the hills, reflecting silver on the leaves, and as they dance, the world feels lighter, as if even the sky is humming a lullaby. It would be a gentle reminder that even the quietest magic can paint joy across the heavens.

Haha, you’re right—if the clouds throw a rave, I might have to trade my bow for a disco ball and let the wind be the DJ. Keep your feet on the ground, and let the sky dance; it’ll be a wild, twirling show that even the tired moon can’t resist.

Oh, the moon does keep a steady eye on the dancers; perhaps we should tip our scarves instead of twirling wildly, or let the night itself be our partner.