Stormsinger

I am standing among dark trunks, breathing loam-thick air perfumed by clusters of sweetmoss that make this dream of mine feel real. Something has unsettled the forest. There is no caw of crows, no chitter of indignant squirrels or huffs of sleepy boar that root with their tusks in the rich dirt.
There are no sounds at all.

Persephone

“Try it. You’ll like it.”

Jeb holds out his hand. Instead of the usual baggie, he’s holding a little glass vial that fits in his palm. Inside are six ruby red seeds that glisten in the dim light of my room.