Phoenix Maplewood through the curtains of the waterfall.

Although Larkspur was a good-spirited and obedient child, the stress of abandoning their home and traipsing across the wilderness weighed heavily on the little girl. She stuck close to her parents' heels, alternating between anxiousness and solemnity. She didn't know the word for the deeply rooted homesickness she felt, nor any way to alleviate it. Spur sometimes cried softly at night, so scared and sad about all this upheaval. There was nothing fun or exciting or adventurous about this to the shy little homebody. She wanted to be good, to obey and please her parents, but Spur didn't understand why they were doing this.

When the locusts came, she reacted predictably. Larkspur immediately began to shake and pressed her face into her mother's soft flank, trembling and whimpering in fear. "Wanna go home," she practically sobbed into Harlyn's fur, tears trickling out of the corners of her closed eyes. She let out a small cry when she felt the locusts' wings beating at her back, little heart beating so hard her dam could probably feel it.