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"Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality." ― Lewis Carroll
Chapter 35 - Whispers Among the Trees
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The sun shone down through the trees, dappling the forest floor with golden light. The gentle crunch of leaves underfoot echoed as Lydia, Diana, and Anne made their way to school. Though they walked together, the conversation was mostly between Anne and Diana, while Lydia trailed slightly behind, lost in her thoughts.
"Why didn't you tell Nate the truth?" Diana asked, walking beside Anne, her voice curious and a little concerned.
Lydia's attention snapped back to the present, her eyebrows lifting in curiosity. She hadn't been paying attention to their conversation before, but now that piqued her interest.
"I thought seeing the gold in the soil would be obvious," Anne complained, frustration lacing her words. "'He thinks I'm a child. 'Pipsqueak.'"
Lydia watched as Diana gently placed a hand on Anne's shoulder, trying to console her.
"You can't possibly expect to be his equal, Anne," Diana said with a tone of soft reasoning. "He's an adult and a scientist."
Anne sighed in irritation, the weight of feeling belittled hanging heavy in the air. Diana quickly withdrew her hand, sensing Anne's frustration, and shifted the conversation.
"But that's just book learning," Diana said, casting a quick, reassuring glance at Lydia. "And you and Lydia have already proven how good you both are at that."
Diana looked over her shoulder and smiled at Lydia, her eyes warm with pride for her adopted sister. Lydia returned the smile, feeling grateful for the small gesture. She nodded, and Diana turned back to Anne, continuing her thought.
"You have something else," Diana added, her voice a bit more encouraging. "Remember when Minnie May was sick, and you put onions on the soles of her feet to bring her fever down?"
"That was just an old wives' tale," Anne said, though a small smile tugged at her lips, softening her frustration.
"It takes imagination to believe in such things," Diana stated matter-of-factly.
They passed under some low-hanging branches, their footsteps synchronized as they walked along the wooded path. Lydia followed closely behind them, still quietly listening.
"Your imagination is a gift, Anne—and Lydia, too," Diana continued, her voice warm with admiration. "It's something that can't be learned."
"What good is an imagination if I can't see what's right in front of my eyes?" Anne exclaimed, exasperation bubbling up inside her.
Just then, Anne's scarf got caught on a branch, halting her in her tracks. Lydia's eyes widened, and without hesitation, she rushed over to help. Together, they worked to untangle the scarf from the gnarled branch.
