Roses and Thorns

3- Sister Dear

I dream about the night the summer ended. It comes in sensations: the scent of fall leaves, the taste of cool wind over my tongue or on my pelt, the way the sky itself seemed to turn colder, as if growing bitter with its creations.

On the edge of the fading landscape, I see a bright yellow figure hidden among the changing trees. She looks like a beam of sunlight amongst their mottled woods, and when she sees me, she bolts.
I try to open my mouth, but no sound comes out. My heart racing, I race after her, paws sore from the pure speed of the chase. We pass over fields of long grass and wildflowers, over the mountains, through snows, through time itself...

The trees have all changed and the air is filled with snow when she stops. The stranger looks pensively over a cliff, her fur still glittering.

I step closer. My voice returns and I ask, "Daisy?"

Finally, she turns around, and I step back, the snow's softness turned to an icy sting.

Where her features would be is only a pit of darkness, scratched out from reality itself.

It's not you.

***

I scramble to my paws, my heart beating like a wild rabbit, and my ears perk to the sound of singing from outside. Ivy has always had a beautiful voice and right now, she's greeting the dawn from just outside the tree. I hit my head on the ceiling and then shake off the excess leaves from my pelt before joining her.

Ivy's paws are dirty. She wipes them against the grass as she breathes a soft aria into being, though she's slurring the notes together again. I emerge into the cold morning air and pad past her, and the song drowns in her throat. There's a stiff silence before she turns, eyes red from the lack of sleep. "Rose."

I pause. "Morning, Ivy."

Her eyes are empty, but her snout still scrunches up at my presence, as if it alone can convey any kind of emotion. "You smell like dirt," she whines.

"Yes, that might be part of living under a tree." My voice is so dry that it almost cracks on the last few words. I can smell the forest at night and something bitterly sharp on her pelt. "You don't smell that pleasant yourself. What is that?"

"Probably wild onions. I don't know, I was awake after the high moon off doing... something." She yawns, her pale pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. "I'm so tired, Rose! But you really should have been there. The starberries and the Candeflit Lilies are so pretty this time of year."

"Sure they are! Unfortunately, I appear to be stuck in this little place called reality where there are consequences and you're supposed to have this thing called a job. I believe I remember you promising to stick at your post for once?"
"Reality is the only thing keeping me from her." I catch the afterscent of smoke on her breath. She's barely lucid and she's staring off at the trees now, tail shifting slowly. I don't know what she sees there that I can't. "Rose, I'm so tired."

I exhale. "You can't sleep through the whole day. Alright? Tomorrow, we're going to do a little better."

She blinks. "Sleep doesn't sound so bad, actually. Well, you know where to find me then." Her fur just barely brushes mine as she moves under the tree and into our room.
I don't know why she bothers telling me.

As far as I'm concerned, she's been sleeping for years.

I pad off, watching the tree cover shift. It casts beams of light over the well-worn paths, and even off the established dusty roads, the short grass of the Glade is trodden over to the point that not a single blade of grass stands properly upright.