Swiftcurrent Creek Giselle

Mae watched her pale sister as she began to play quietly with the flowers. She wasn’t much like Jakub or Nicodem had been when they were younger. Maybe it was only that sisters were different — or maybe it was her, in particular, who was different. Mae wasn’t sure. But she was fascinated as she watched the girl, who seemed to be making patterns with the feathers.

The symbolism of the moment was lost on her, but Mae did find it interesting that she had chosen silver, black, and red. In a way it reminded her of that night with Moss. The night she’d found her sister. Perturbed, she reached out to nudge one of the blue feathers closer to the younger girl.