Duck Lake the frumious Bandersnatch!”

Was it so bad she didn’t want to go back home?

The shrike had followed her, perching on her head to wake her that morning. It peeped at her a few times, and then flew away. She thought that would be it.

The little bird, however, did not.

It followed her through the wetlands to hear, where it nestled against her nape. Blossom tried her best not to unseat it, but the world around her was familiar, in a way she didn’t understand. It was like she had seen it in some distant, haunting memory. Where nothing hurt, where the sun was the first thing she saw.

She couldn’t make sense of it, so she didn’t try to. Instead, Blossom sat beside the lake, letting it lap over her front paws occasionally. It was cold, at first, but eventually she numbed to it.

Maybe she should go back to the sea. The sound. The bay. Maybe she should travel.

Blossom stared at her feet.

Maybe she should just rest.