Silent silhouette, slyly sneaking, mirrors your motion without meeting. A fleeting figure at your feet, a follower that never retreats.

Green outside Red inside Some have black dots, some don't Sweet summer treat

I bloom with beauty, soft to see, yet hide sharp guards to shelter me. A lover’s gift, both sweet and wise, what am I with thorns in disguise?

I'm hard and black, tied to December. If I'm found in your stocking, you've probably been good.

it's a quest word for me, so no alt words please. Golden soldiers stand in endless rows, whispering secrets in rustling tones. A staple of hearth and feast, ringing in fields of plenty.