Wapun Meadow Tiny Flower Swaying in Your Palm

The male regarded her with gentle, amiable eyes, which allowed Crëyr to have herself relax even more around him. Fixating him with a smile, she decided that she would love to come here with him again once the flowers began to grow.

She heard him laugh before providing an answer to her inquiry, reminiscing of his family, how he seemed to also have a cheeky brother and a flower-adoring sister. The petite grayscale girl smiled at that, wondering at the vaguely distant expression on his features. She assumed that happened to everyone who talked about the past they'd left behind. Or had he? ”Sometimes I want to return where I came from, back to family, but the wolves of my pack are family now."

The graphite-grey wolfess looked around the meadow, looked at how the wilting flowers seemed to pick their withered forms off the ground and how they seemed to return to their avid colors and bloom as if they were in the warm seasons once more. She knew it was all simply a memory or a vision, as if she was whisked back into the meadows she used to visit back in Wales with Draenen, how she'd yipped and laughed and tumbled and had accidentally squashed the petals before carefully proceeding to nudge them upwards again.

”Come to think about it, memories are like flowers that grow in your mind and in your heart." Flowers didn't last forever. They lasted for a while, tiny seedlings that proceeded to bloom into brilliant colors— then they faded after some time, their bright hues faltering— then they withered and died, just like the ones that were on the ground at the very moment.

But she found that they were still beautiful.

Occasionally her mind would whirl back into broken memories and crushed dreams, but she prevented them from consuming her. After all, she was happy here. Just in a different way.