A summer breeze drifted through the air, setting the bright green leaves in the trees rustling. Two boys walked down the street savoring the warmth. The younger of the two started to sing and the older boy couldn't help but hum along.

Oh we're going to the pasture to meet Adelaide and ask her if she has a way to send us back where we came from…

"Come on Wirt! We're almost there!" Greg said, running on ahead.

"Hey!" Wirt cried and hiked up his backpack before following. "I'm coming!"

He caught up to his brother just as they arrived at their destination: The Eternal Garden Cemetery.

After they had gotten back and things went back to normal, their time in the Unknown still weighed heavily on Wirt's mind. One day he had decided to visit the cemetery hoping to find… something. Peace of mind maybe.

Instead, he'd found Quincy Endicott's grave right next to his wife, Margueritte.

This raised even more questions for Writ. He'd gone home and looked up Mr. Endicott and found out he'd run a very profitable tea company back in the early 1800s.

Wirt went back again and again finding more graves each time; Ms. Langtree's read "a teacher loved by all" and was decorated with an apple and the animals she had taught. Enoch's had pumpkins surrounding his name. Wirt had even found the woodsman and his daughter.

At some point he had stopped coming to look for graves and just came to think. Sometimes he'd bring his clarinet and sometimes Greg or Sara would tag along. It was such a peaceful place.

It was Greg who had finally found the grave he'd really been looking for.

"Hi Beatrice!" Greg called as he ran up to the grave stone. "Sorry we're late. Wirt was being slow."

"Hey, you're not the one who had to carry everything. But yeah, it was my fault."

Beatrice's grave made no reply, but it didn't need to. A pair of tiny bluebirds flew above her name which was guarded by two carved trees whose leaves spiraled down to pile around the date. She had died young.

They sat down on the lawn beside the stone and Wirt took off his backpack and rummaged around until he finally pulled out a slightly crushed bouquet of red carnations, white rosebuds, and zinnias.

"These are for you." He set them down and Greg immediately picked them up and started to make a flower crown.

They lapsed into companionable silence as Greg played with the flowers and Wirt took out some homework.

"Play something Wirt," Greg finally said, then explained to Beatrice, "He's been working super hard on this really cool song for a competition."

"It's not that cool," Wirt mumbled.

"Pshaw. We'll be the judge of that. Now play!"

"Yeah, okay." Wirt set aside his homework and pulled out his clarinet. He wet the reed and fingered nervously. "Well, here goes."

Reedy notes drifted up and mingled with the breeze and Greg sighed. The two (or was it the three?) of them relaxed into the melody and lost track of time as Wirt played on. It was just them, the sun, and the song.

At some point Wirt noticed someone singing along. Thinking it was Greg, he glanced at him, but saw his brother was staring at something above the stone. Wirt turned slightly and his eyes widened. There was a bluebird perched on top of the grave, chirping along to his song. He didn't notice he'd stopped playing until the bird stopped and looked at him, then chirped reproachfully.

"Right. Sorry." He played a quick intro then dove back into the melody. The bird began to sing along again and Greg tapped out a beat, laughing joyfully.

Wirt gently released the last note and breathed a small sigh; he was gonna rock the competition. He and the bird looked at each other for a moment. It jumped onto Greg's head and plucked a red carnation from his flower crown, making the younger boy giggle, then jumped down and landed on Wirt's knee, dropping the flower on his lap. It chirped once, then flew away. And Wirt swore he could hear her voice…

Thanks Wirt. And good luck at your competition.