Blackfeather Woods a distant ship smoke on the horizon

Stay away, my father told me, she recalled, after he'd nodded. He was right. That didn't stop me from ignoring him. I'd probably still ignore him now.

But she preferred poppies. There were too many awful side effects associated with that tree, too many to make anything marvelous not worth the while. Poppies were safe.

Well. . .to a point. But she hadn't died yet.

She sank to the forest floor, sprawling out upon her side. Come lay with me, she invited, smiling up at him. It was seldom that the ungrinning side of her mouth matched the wide cut of her scar—but it did now. He brought it out in her. Poppies and Mou.

Do you miss the island? Maegi asked, trying to remember the gentle murmur of waves against the shore.