Valley of Gold It could be worse, I could be taking you there with me

Hoping for both my sisterssss <3

High noon; Foxglove crept through the tall golden grass, tucked close to the ground to avoid the hot glare of sunlight. She panted lightly between testing the air and dirt for signs of @Dahlia and @Petal. It was Dahlia she found first, inviting her with a beckoning gesture but no words. It was too hot to waste her breath on greetings, Fox felt.

On they went — and when they found Petal, Foxglove couldn't contain her excitement. She wiggled all the way to her quietest sister, nibbling at her cheek affectionately.

I wanna go explorin', Foxglove announced simply, but there was a certain gravity to her words that implied more. She only let the statement hang for a moment before she went on: I wanna find somethin' to help mama. Or someone, I dunno.

Petal adored when it was all three of them. Her heart squeezed within her chest, tight enough for pain, but it was the good kind. Was there a good kind? Sure.

She peppered kisses along Fox's chin before she lowly wiggled over to Dahlia to do the same. She said nothing until after Fox had spoke. Then an idea occurred to Petal.

If that one man had been able to trade things, why could three girls not?

Do you know about trading? Her big gold eyes blinked as she looked between her sisters. She waited for their answers before she dared to say any more of her idea.

dahlia had changed. the fire of her youth was stolen alongside her sister's disappearance and the emergence of her mother's mystery illness. the woman who was once ceaslessly doting was now nearly catatonic. naturally, dahlia decided the best thing she could do for anyone was to be nothing less than perfect.

she could spend the rest of her life pretending that she didn't need, just so she could tell herself that it was fine that her mother couldn't care for her anymore.

she learned perfection quickly. now, she knew just how and where to stand. when to use her tongue and when to use her teeth.

when to leave a room without being asked.

how to move her limbs to make the most beautiful dancer's shapes, though it didn't feel like it mattered anymore now that she was dancing alone.

she knew when to speak up and when to be quiet; to let others take center stage. after all, one perfect flower in a field of weeds can command more attention than one alone in a vase.

. . .

she followed her sister in silence. it was hot, but it wasn't the heat that deterred her. she didn't have the words to describe her big feelings — and even so, she was trying not to have feelings at all. feelings were what had always gotten her in trouble, and trouble was the last thing she wanted to be now.

she responded to each of the girls with the most appropriate amount of enthusiasm she could muster. she would care for them, even when reverie wouldn't.

foxglove's words soured in dahlia's stomach. no flowers, songs, or dances could help mama. they had already tried. but she didn't have the heart to discourage anyone from trying again. 

that, to her, was love.

petal's question piques her interest.

only a little, she replied, the kind we've done before. i'll give you this pretty rock for that gnawing bone.

Sorry for the wait!

Her gaze lingered on Petal for a moment, soft with affection — but that was quickly dashed away by Foxglove's flare of excitement when her sister spoke of trading. She nodded in agreement to Dahlia's words; they'd traded small things, sure, but Fox had never thought of it this way before. As something that could be — useful for more than a moment.

But what could possibly be worth enough for such a trade?

Whatcha thinkin'? Fox asked in lieu of expressing her doubts, choosing to trust the quick mind that she knew lurked behind Petal's long silences. Surely she had an idea.

Her cheeks flushed, maybe some tinge of embarrasment. She should have expected support but this rapt attention made her worry about saying the wrong thing. Leading them astray. She never wanted to be the wrong person to trust.

We start small. I met a man who even trades rocks, as long as it is something he doesn't have. This was to assure her sisters that it seemed there was a want for anything. A stone turns into a plant. Turns into meat or furs. Turns into someone willing to come help for the meal or comfort.

Her cheeks burned hotly. Confidence was a dizzying kind of experience and she was not sure how she liked it!

We trade when we explore, we'll find something.

she thought of their few material possessions, of the earthly things they had. she would have traded the entire valley of gold for her mother's health. she thought of the fresh rabbit dusty had brought them that morning, but knew they couldn't spare the food.

explore it was, then — though it would take plenty of effort from all three of them to yield something more than barren earth.

in a rare moment of secondhand pride, dahlia beamed for her sister. you lead then, petal. we'll know it when we see it. we'll come up with something together.