Primrose Everdeen lay, alone and peaceful, aware only of the deep, calming blue of the sky. There was not a cloud to be seen, and the warmth of the sun’s rays fell across her skin like a blanket; warm enough to numb her mind, slightly, but not in the least bit uncomfortable. Her eyes travelled lazily across the endless blue, while she absent-mindedly curled her fingers through the long, thick grass upon which she lay. She smiled slightly, her mind drifting in and out of thoughts, like that of the smell of freshly baked bread, and the vague, half-forgotten sound of her father’s whistling.
At first, the only sound was that of distant birdsong, but after a long while, it seemed to be joined by a quiet humming, that almost seemed to emanate from her own body, and flow into the grass and the sky itself. She was no different from the sky, she thought to herself, nor the birds that sang. She was the flowers and the grass, that swayed gently, and the calm wind that blew them. She was the trees, standing tall and ever growing, always providing life for others. She was even the delicate sunlight that fell upon her own skin, and, most importantly, she was the humming sound coming from the middle of her head; although, as she listened, the humming seemed to take on a more distinct form. At first, it was barely discernible, but as time passed, the noise seemed to rise and fall in a slow changing pattern. She began to listen more carefully, and as she did so, she fancied she could make out slight breaks in the sound, that might have been the beginning and ending of words. She waited patiently, knowing that she had all of the time in the world, and that the nature of the song would only reveal itself when it chose to. Her eyes still trailed the sky, but her mind was more focused now, although it still contained all of the sleepy peacefulness that it had held before. Then, like a wave slowly making its way along a still beach, before breaking on the shore, the sadness hit her, and with it, came the all too familiar words of her favourite song.
Deep in the meadow, under the Willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open, the sun will rise
Here it’s safe, here it’s warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your days are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you
Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when again it’s morning, they’ll wash away
Here it’s safe, here it’s warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you
The voice was silent, and Prim realised that a cascade of tears were streaming down her cheeks. She pressed her fingers to her lips, as though she was telling herself to be quiet, and drew in a trembling breath. Only after she had wiped her eyes dry did she let it out again, and raise her head, in search of the solitary singer. At first, she saw only the breathtaking beauty of the meadow that surrounded her. The grass was long, thick, and deep green. Each and every blade seemed important, as though each had lived here, in this meadow, forever, and each had its own story to tell. Some distance away the meadow stopped suddenly, and gave way to a long line of trees, that spread on as far as the horizon. The place seemed unbearably familiar, but she could not make herself remember why.
