A warm morning sun crept through the leafy boughs, casting spiderwebs of light across the autumnal leaf floor whilst a barely perceptible breath of breeze caused the hairs on Rana neck to stand on end. The refreshing gust danced across the pathway, roiling the sediment of fallen leaves with its wide currents and shaking the long branches free of their tiny helicopter seeds that span and twisted in the playful breeze. As she wandered through the expansive forest, her daydreaming underscored by the gentle crack of brittle leaves beneath her bare feet, she hummed a lilting melody, its long-forgotten lesson barely audible on her lips. 

“They’re beautiful.” Brynn called from behind. He walked along the wide pathway similarly barefoot as the breeze played with his loose jerkin. 

Rana stopped at the base of a particularly large tree, placing her hand on the trunk she felt the scratch of the bark against her fingers and the dampness of the recent rains. Taking a deep breath, her nose filled with the pleasurable petrichor. 

“That smells wonderful.” Brynn appeared next to her, reaching his hand to lay on her own against the tree-trunk. He brushed a lock of her loose hair from her face. “Betazed is truly filled with beautiful things.”

“They’re not native to Betazed. Sycamores from Earth, they were a gift from the Federation ambassador during the membership summit.” She run her hand over the coarse trunk, carrying Brynn’s fingers along the memory. “They symbolise wisdom and knowledge, particularly that gained over time.” 

“An excellent gift for a wise member.”

Rana laughed, her voice echoing through the endless tree trunks. “Barely. The Federation wasn’t even a century old and we weren’t much longer amongst the stars.” She extracted her hand from his, beginning to walk down the path again. “We proved our worth quickly though, particularly in the diplomatic core.” She stopped, turning to Brynn and effecting the air of a stuffy diplomat. “Apparently my maternal Grandmother was involved in negotiating the Treaty of Algernon. 

“An impressive story.” Brynn smiled, play acting a deep genuflect. 

“And probably just that.” Rana’s facade dropped, her deep-set eyes seemed tired at the realisation. “My mother was forever hoping for some grand lineage. We probably served the drinks.”

“Did you never ask her?”

“I never got the chance.” Rana turned and continued down the yellow leaf avenue. The breeze, once playful, now began to nip at the skin. 

As the two continued silently down the arboreal colonnade, an army of parachuting sycamore seeds fluttering from the treetops, Brynn examined the refreshed woman. Her tight, pristine uniform had been replaced with a wafting, multi-layered skirt and a loose blouse was barely buttoned across her chest. Her long raven hair, previously imprisoned in tight buns, now rolled in loose untamed curls across her shoulders as it bobbed gently in time with her slow gait. 

“You’re seem happy.” Brynn took several long strides to catch up with her, he titled his head inquisitively. 

“I have many happy memories here as a girl.” She looked to him smiling as she walked. “My father would bring me here, telling me stories of the fairies and fey that lived amongst the branches; how to make allies of them and keep them sweet.” A tear began to from in the corner of her eyes. 

“He sounds like a good man.” Brynn intertwined his fingers into hers. She did not resist the unexpected intimacy. 

“He was.” She gave a sad smile. 

“What happened to him?”

A cold shadow rolled across the forest, the gently dappled sunshine giving way to a dark shape that swallowed the light and joy. Giant tree trunks turned to saplings as the source of the shadow came into view far above their heads. “Purple skinned devils” Rana whispered with the voice of a panicked child as the hull of a Dominion warship hovered in the cloudless skies.