Golden Glade we climb and they descend

Fox startled at the sound of a voice, too familiar to be anything but out of place in these foreign woods. She glanced up, already expecting to see her sister — and stopped short, surprised again to see her older, the new sharpness to her gaze that spoke of seeing much more of the world than she had when last they'd seen one another. For a moment Foxglove wondered if Petal — no, Forsythia — saw the same in her own face.

Then her startled expression broke into sunshine and smiles, light streaming between the clouds. I'm not dead yet! She countered, all but running to meet Forsythia where she stood. How did you find me? Did you follow me? Is Dahlia with you? Or - Foxglove was breathless. Oh, it's so good to see you.