Stone Circle time doesn’t care about anyone or anything, oh

perfect dahlia with her perfect ribbons and bows. she did not resent the surface level image she always saw. no, she treasured it. adored it. petal was undone by the softness of this perfect sister, her own ribbon around her heart suddenly pulled free.

she was crying now. not out of sadness — and she wondered if it should be — but out of the kindness given to her. again and again and again.

petal, you have eyes like no other. it’s a gift.

but the eyes were wet with tears like they might water all the plants she collected. as if all the dancing they had ever done was not for the skies to weep but her.

all the world. hers and hers alone. but who gave it to her? dahlia.

she had sunk down now, belly low against the earth that was between her sister's paws. flattened and her own paws draped over her eyes. i'm okay — she breathed out softly between the tears. i'm okay.