Wapun Meadow april showers

adalynn, periane echoed softly, as if tasting the name, letting it settle on her tongue. a pretty name.
she dipped her head in quiet acknowledgment, something gentle in the way she regarded the child. adalynn’s curiosity was open, honest—untainted by the weight that often clung to older souls.
gaze drifted over the meadow, the stubborn sprouts peeking through the frost. life, fragile and persistent, waiting for its time.
i do, she murmured, returning her eyes to the girl. it takes patience. knowing when to leave them be, when to pull away the things that would choke them, when to give them room to grow.
she paused, studying adalynn, sensing something in her words beyond the surface of them.