She always knew there was something out there, something to be afraid of. Her mother died of disease that had eventually taken her whole family; brother, sister, father and all. Now she lived in her old house, which stood by The River Japern. In this house she lived alone, with only Ambri, her cat, to keep her company. They called her Girl of Flowers, for she never left the house without a golden Poppy tucked behind her ear.
He lived in the wild all his life, never leaving the warm comfort of his canopied home. He made a sport out of running through the trees, never tripping once. He ran, and ran, and ran, not stopping until he felt the spiking pain in his frail chest. He then flopped down on the moss-encased rocks, and marveled at the wonders around him. The thrush never ceased to amaze him. With its fast motions, and shrill cry, it looked so alert and aware of its surroundings. He envied it. He wanted so much to have the grace, the wisdom, and the courage that creature had, that he decided to try for himself. He left the next morning, intent on attaining the thrush's powers.
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The Space Between Threads
FantasyThere is time, and there is space. We are running out of one, and into the other.