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Here is a scene from this BryonySeries novel.

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Pick one part of it and illustrate it.

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If you'd like us to see it, send it to bryonyseries@gmail.com. We will not share it with anyone without your written permission.

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The sun set low in the orange-gold and black sky, while the evening wind commenced its wispy lullaby. The boughs and wildflowers bent and swayed, even as the shivering littlest pixies scurried to their respective abodes, where they would bundle into tufts of cotton and toast their diminutive toes before matchstick bonfires.

            Initial audience departed, Glorna ceased his reel and cocked his head to listen to the first alluring notes of the evening wind, always a delightful surprise, whether they crooned a fluttering breeze or blasted an occasional fortissimo gale.

            Assured he could reproduce tonight’s song, Glorna coiled his toes around the old, gnarled branches; rested his head against the broad, lobed leaves; raised his pointed face to the moon; and scattered his musical strains across the heavens. Each piping perfectly complemented the whistle blowing through his oak, and he contentedly sighed and merged with the ethereal music.

            While he played, the filmy, cornflower-blue fairies flitted about the evening primroses and moonflowers. They pried open the delicate blooms and released into the night air the hundreds of supernatural beings that dwelled within them. Soon, the ground sylphs emerged, their transparent, mauve wings glowing under the full moonlight. Even the gray water sprites hovering over Quixotic Pond, paused their patrol to bask in the haunting tune.

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