She picked him up. “You are my Ariel ,” she said, the name coming from nowhere and everywhere. “You are my morning star.” Years bled like dye in water. Ariel grew. Maquia did not.
“I will weave you into every cloth,” she promised. “Until the last thread snaps.” Maquia When the Promised Flower Blooms -2018- B...
“Goodbye, Ariel,” she whispered.
Maquia fled. She didn’t remember running. She only remembered falling—tumbling through a roaring river, emerging in a forest thick with the smell of pine and mud. And there, in the hollow of a dead tree, she found him. She picked him up