Hello lovelies. I'm quite surprised as to where this one ended up, but I'm still pleased with it. I got a little teary in some parts. There's a little bit of explicit imagery for a "death" which you'll see. Read or skim; whatever makes you comfortable:)
Note: This is connected to Plastic (chapter 4). See if you can find the scene;)
OnePirateWolf96: Yay! I like making people smile (because it makes me smile). Yep, Dickson can totally be a grizzly/teddy bear combo. Thanks for the Favorite and the review!
Glassdrop: Thank you! I feel like I didn't do a four year old's perspective any justice, but it's relieving that you still liked it. And I plan to experiment more with battle scenes in the future. I think I found a workable time management for school and fun, so hopefully updates won't take TOO long. Thanks for reviewing!
Guest: To answer your question, I do have prompts for Zanza, Meyneth, and/or Lorithia. However, I write these prompts in whatever order I feel inspired by. So it's really just up to my muse/mood at the time. *shrugs* Thanks for reviewing!
TheMysteriousGeek2345: They are adorable at any age (exception being when Mumkhar goes off the deep end:)). Dickson IS a hoot, and I'm glad you liked it. Thank you for reviewing!
Xervail: I now have this mental image of the one-shots stealing cake from each other:) Ha! Everyone should just take a page from Dickson's Life Lessons: who needs breathing anyway? - chapter 1. The route I took with Mumkhar followed this logic: nobody is born evil/bad. Kid Mumkhar and Adult Mumkhar aren't of the same mindset because of their different ages. That being said, I still tried tying in some things that still make Mumkhar himself. He can be a little shit (crayon incident), and you may not have noticed the first time, but Mumkhar didn't make any return promises to Dunban at the end; it was completely one-sided. Mumkhar and Dunban are very interesting foils to each other, and you can see it change over the game. At the beginning when the Defense Force is ordered to retreat, Mumkhar is cautious and wants to follow the rules while Dunban is reckless and wants to keep fighting because he thinks he's invincible with the Monado. Fast forward in the game, you have them switch roles. Mumkhar is reckless and goes behind Egil's back to attack the party (because he thinks he's invincible in his new body) while Dunban displays more caution and wisdom. So I based kid Mumkhar and Dunban to what they were like at the beginning of the game. Well, this was a rant, wasn't it? Hehe. Thank you so much for reviewing!
And thank you Totodile exe, TheSuperSmashingWolf, and SilverPhoenixFlame for the Favorites and/or Follows!
Enjoy!
3. Strawberries (Fiora)
When Fiora was three years old, her mother told her of a special place. Like a ghost, she came in the middle of the night, clad in a long, flowy white dress that whispered around her ankles as she stepped weightlessly across the creaky floor. Her willowy figure leaned over the sleeping form of her daughter, gently rousing her awake. Fiora complied with being dressed in her play clothes, too sleepy to argue or throw a tantrum. And when her mother opened her arms in invitation, Fiora didn't hesitate.
Crickets sang their nightly chorus, erratic voices rising and falling. The stars remained a cold and bright audience. No light was on in any of the buildings they passed. The whole town was asleep minus them, the only other sound being the scuffing of her mother's feet on the stone road.
"Mama, where we going?" Fiora mumbled into the crook of her mother's neck.
"It's a surprise," her mother answered, a smile in her voice.
"I like surprises."
"I know you do, sweetheart." Her mother shifted her into a more secure hold, and freed one hand to stroke her hair. "Sleep. We'll be there soon."
"M'not tired," Fiora grumped, closing her eyes and snuggling closer.
Despite her protests, she quickly succumbed, rocked to sleep by her mother's breathing and her scented shampoo.
She was shaken awake after what felt like two minutes. "What?" she said with just a hint of a whine.
Her mother set her on her feet, and took her hand. "Look."
Fiora squinted. It was still relatively dark outside, but she could still make out the crack in the side of a cliff. It looked like the mouth of a monster. She shied away. "Mama?" she asked uncertainly, clutching her mother's hand with both of her own.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Just stay close to me."
They entered into the abyss. At first, everything was pitch black. Fiora was too wary to be impressed by her mother's navigation. Then, slowly, everything became lighter. The sun wasn't out; they were still in the tunnel, but the walls were glowing green.
"Ether," her mother explained without looking at her. "The building block of all living things. You're made of ether, and I am made of ether."
"Is the cave alive, Mama?" she asked, looking around in wonder.
"Everything is alive, Fiora, if you know where to look." She tugged her daughter along. "Come see."
The tunnel ended. Sandy floor gave way to long flowy grass that came up to her chest. Smooth rock walls encircled a tiny meadow. The exposed stars above were slowly vanishing behind the crawling purple and pinks. The coming dawn exposed the vines growing along the rock walls, reaching up and over the top.
They walked in further. Fiora ran ahead, seeing a tall flower retreat back into its bud. "Mama! Mama! Didja see? Didja see?" she asked excitedly. She poked the bud. "Why did it go away?"
Her mother knelt down beside her. "It's a shy flower; it only comes out under the cover of night."
"Oh, does it have friends it can talk to?"
"Yes, it has its entire family here, so it's not lonely." She sat down, and nudged Fiora, pointing to a place somewhere over her shoulder. "What's that over there?"
Fiora looked. "It's a bush."
"Go see what's on it."
Fiora went over dutifully. She looked carefully. It was still just a bush. She glanced at Mama uncertainly. Her mother waved her hand, gesturing for her to get lower. Fiora got on her hands and knees, and crawled closer until she was practically in the bush. She looked.
And saw.
There on the multiple little branches hung little red strawberries, ripe for the taking. Squealing happily, she snagged a few, and raced to show Mama. "Look, look what I found!"
Her mother smiled, and plucked one away, chewing it. Her eyes closed in bliss. "Just like I remember."
Fiora, busy stuffing her face, paused. "Have you been here before?" she asked, voice muffled. Juice ran down her chin. Her mother wiped it away.
"Since I was a little girl like you."
"I can't wait to tell Dundun!" Fiora said gleefully.
Her mother paused, and then murmured, "I would prefer to keep this place a secret."
"What's a secret?"
"Something not meant for other people to know; this place is a secret."
"Why can't Dundun know?"
"Maybe next time. For now," she said, poking her daughter's forehead, "This will be our little secret, alright?"
"Okay," Fiora agreed.
They spent the morning picking berries with Fiora alternatively storing them in her belly. Soon, the basket was full, and Fiora looked at it mournfully. "I wish we could take back more."
Her mother took off her sun hat, and placed it on Fiora's lap. "There is always a way," she said softly. Reaching over to the nearest bush, she plucked off a few, and dropped them into the hat.
Fiora's resulting grin felt too big for her face.
When Fiora was six years old, she awoke one day in her older brother's arms. It was early in the morning, the sky pale pink like how milk got after leaving cereal to soak in it. Her brother was running, chest heaving, and jostling her with each step. Blearily, she rubbed her eyes with a fist.
"Dundun, where we going?" she mumbled, not bothering to lift her head from his shoulder.
He looked down at her with surprise. "Fiora! You're awake!" His grip tightened, and Fiora let out a displeased noise. She wasn't going anywhere; she was quite comfortable, so there was no need to squish her.
Luckily, Dunban got the message, and loosened his grip slightly. "Sorry, Fiora," he huffed, never slowing down. "We… we're going on an adventure for a few days, alright? Isn't that exciting?"
Their eyes met briefly. Dunban's brows were furrowed, sweat running down his forehead, and though she was still sleepy, green eyes caught the grave worry in brown eyes.
"What's wrong, Dundun?" she asked just a loud screech ripped through the stillness. It was followed by a Homs scream, abruptly choked off. Fiora's head snapped up; all too suddenly aware of the clicking and clacking noises, and dark shapes in the sky. "Dunban?" she asked fearfully, throat clogging as another Homs scream split the air. It was childlike, and it too was silenced mid-scream. "Dunban!"
Her older brother somehow managed to free a hand to push her head back into the comforting darkness of his shoulder.
"Don't look Fiora. Whatever you do, please, just don't look."
His hand left her head, and travelled down to her back to rub jerky, yet soothing circles as she hiccuped, and tried to not to hear anything. It was hard work. Her fingers grabbed fistfuls of Dunban's shirt, twisting harder and harder each time there was a loud crash.
"Almost there, almost there," her brother murmured breathlessly. She was shifted into a more secure hold. "Almost there, almost there. Almost home free."
Home.
Fiora wanted to go home. She wanted to run up the creaky stairs, and curl up under her covers to hide from the world. She wanted to hear the crinkling of glossy cookbook pages, and wrinkle her nose at the questionable smells Dunban concocted when he cooked stew. She wanted to line her back up against the wooden frame of the front door, and stretch on her tiptoes to beat the black line marking Dunban's height at her age. She wanted to walk back into her house, and see a willowy figure with flowing brown hair and gentle green eyes leaning on the counter while reading. She wanted to run up to that figure, and be embraced; wanted there to be no screaming, no crashing, no banging, no nothing.
She wanted to demand to be taken to their secret place, filled with gigantic bushes and delicious strawberries and impatient vines; she wanted her mother to wear that pretty white dress-
Fiora gasped, and wrenched her head up. "Dunban!" she shrieked. "We gotta go back. We got to!"
Dunban seemingly didn't hear her. Wriggling violently made him notice.
With a bad word Fiora would usually be 'ohhhing' at, her older brother ducked into an alleyway, and set her down. He knelt down to her level, and gripped her shoulders. "Why do we need to go back, Fiora?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
"Mama," she cried. "We gotta go back for mama!"
Dunban's face twisted, sad pain in his eyes. "Fiora, Mum is gone. Besides, we can't go back right now."
"Why?!" She stomped her foot. "The monsters will destroy it if we don't go back."
"The Mechon will get us if we go back," his voice was firm, no room for arguments.
"No!" her voice rose. "We gotta go get it! I have to!"
"What is it?!" Dunban asked exasperatedly.
Fiora's lower lip wobbled. "Mama's special dress. We can't leave it."
"We can't-"
"Maybe you can't, but I can!" she interrupted. She ran for the street, but he caught her arm in a tight –and a little painful- grip. He began dragging her in the opposite direction.
Away from home.
"No, no, no, no," she screamed hysterically, struggling with all her might. It did very little.
"Fiora!" her older brother snapped. "Be. Quiet."
She dug in her heels. "You're not listening, you're not listening!" Her breaths came in shallow pants; her vision darkened on the edges.
Dunban's jaw clenched, and he resolutely kept walking and dragging her.
There is always a way, whispered a woman's voice from the eye of the storm.
Fiora put the one way that always made Dunban listen to her to use.
She burst into tears.
They stopped; the grip on her arm went slack. Fiora peered up through her bangs, salty water blurring her vision. Even so, she could see Dunban's frustrated expression slowly morph into one of defeat, shoulders slumping.
"I'll," Dunban began.
"We'll," Fiora countered fiercely. No amount of convincing was going to separate her from her only remaining family member.
Dunban's lips thinned, and for a moment, Fiora was afraid he would send her away anyway. But then his hand slid down her arm to grasp her hand tightly. Fiora squeezed back just as hard. They would not be separated.
"Do whatever I tell you to do; keep your head down, stay close to me, and hide when I tell you to. Do you understand me?" Dunban had a wild look in his eyes.
Fiora gulped inaudibly, but nevertheless met brown eyes with determination. She nodded once.
"Let's go."
They ran amid the dust and smoke, the molten red sun an ominous sign in the bloody dawn.
When Fiora was thirteen years old, she entered her first baking contest. The kitchen was a tornado of clattering pots, pans, and preservative jars when Dunban came down the stairs. He stared. "Wha-?"
"Dunban!" Fiora cried out, running over and clutching his arm. "I need your help!" She ushered him over to the table. "Sit," she commanded, turning her back and heading to the counter. Grabbing a random dish, she slid it in front of her dazed brother. "I need you to taste test."
He raised a bemused brow. "Is this how you get rid of me? By poisoning?"
"Dunban!" she shoved him in the shoulder, green eyes blazing. "This is serious!"
"The prize money isn't even that much; why do you care?"
"It's enough for some things," she muttered, picturing the two simple crafted daggers she had seen one Nopon merchant carry. He'd offered to sell them to her at a reduced price that was just out of her allowance range. But Dunban didn't need to know about that. Not yet.
"Fiora…" Dunban trailed off warningly, reading her expression all too easily.
Fiora rolled her shoulders back, silently swearing to work on her poker face.
Maybe she could ask Dickson for some pointers later.
"Please? Just taste it." She gave him puppy eyes.
He caved.
She cheered inwardly.
Trying not to hover, Fiora turned to the sink to wash used pots.
"Hmmm."
"What do you think?" she asked excitedly, pots instantly forgotten.
Dunban chewed and swallowed, looking thoughtful. "It's…" his pause did the telling.
She sagged. "That bad, huh?" Those daggers were disappearing slowly before her blurring eyes.
"No!" Dunban waved his hands, placating. "Nothing like that. It just needs a stronger punch."
"You mean it's bland," she said dispassionately, pouting.
When Dunban nodded, she leaned against the counter thinking. What could provide a stronger punch? She had already tried Dance Apples and Black Kiwi as the main ingredients, but those were boring! She was pretty sure at least half, if not all, the other young girls were doing some variation of those. She wanted to be original.
She twirled her hair, deep in thought. "More punch," she muttered.
It hit her.
She jumped up, and kissed Dunban's cheek. "I got it!" She ran upstairs to change, and get her basket, leaving her bewildered brother in her mess.
She won first place for her strawberry dishes. Prize money in pocket, she shared the rest of the dishes with her friends.
"This is so good!" Reyn crowed, digging in with gusto.
She smiled, and threw a napkin at his face. Her eyes strayed to the small blonde next to him, eating with a lot more manners. He looked up, and honest blue eyes met her green.
"This is amazing," Shulk said sincerely, lips widening into a genuine smile.
Fiora's heart skipped a few beats as her cheeks warmed.
She felt like flying.
When Fiora was sixteen years old, she could have sworn she saw a flash of red outside her window. Granted, her back was to the window, so she only got a quick peripheral glance at it with the help of her mirror. She slipped the dress over her head, the fabric caressing her skin with familiar silky smoothness.
Approaching the window, Fiora palmed the knife Dunban was –with her insistence- teaching her how to use.
She slid up to the side of the window, back to the wall. Carefully, she peered outside.
A bush rustled.
She threw the knife. Practice would turn her aim deadly, but for now, Fiora was satisfied with how straight her weapon flew. A thunk and a squeal later, the perpetrator –a Hand Bunnit- scrambled away. Fiora exhaled, and felt a flicker of regret. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty. The bunnit hadn't been doing any harm.
She knelt down, and leaned against the windowsill, arms crossing on the wooden frame. Her eyes slipped shut, and she briefly enjoyed the sounds of the world reawakening, the beginnings of the day's heat pressing on her cheeks.
The sounds of a faint ruckus caused her eyes to reopen. She watched bemusedly as a familiar figure sprinted down the road, kicking up dust as he went. "Wonder what Reyn's up to?" Fiora mused. After a moment of playful possibilities, she dismissed all of them, and pushed away from the window.
"Now where did I put my hat and basket?"
When Fiora was eighteen years old, she'd never given much thought as to how she would die. Peaceful, she'd assumed. Old, rocking chair, full lifespan come and gone peaceful. Surrounded by friends (if they hadn't already said goodbye) and family (she clung to illusion that Dunban would last that long).
Boring.
Lonely.
Foolish.
Dying hurt.
Feeling your belly being torn to shreds by glinting metal claws was not fun. At first, there was no pain, only the sensation of a pencil puncturing Jell-O. There was detachment, there was pressure, and there was fluid. Lots and lots of thick fluid. She remembered looking at her hands from what seemed like underwater. Red, so much red ran through her fingers, and down her arm like syrup. Everything was messy like someone had popped a water balloon, and everyone had to look for the remaining rubber pieces because no one wanted any pets or stray animals to accidentally choke.
She was making an excellent feast for the Mechon.
Heavy machine bodies, grabby pincers, harsh blinking red eyes. She was yanked violently out of the underwater, and a ringing took up residence in her ears as pain exploded like a bomb placed near her head.
She remembered wanting to scream. Scream long and loud. Scream and descend into heaving cries. But that required energy she wasn't allowed time to summon. All she managed were a few quiet gurgles, liquid bubbling in the back of her throat, choking, squeezing, and blocking ruptured airways.
The urge to die had never seemed more important.
She wished the Faced-Mechon had killed her in one hit.
Anything beat slowly bleeding to death.
Except maybe dying of old-age.
It was stupid. It was selfish. But Fiora didn't want to outlive Shulk or Reyn or even Dunban.
She was afraid of being alone.
Of being left behind.
She'd never felt as alone as she did at that moment.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! She cried out inwardly, the setting sun slowly vanishing behind darkening lids. I take it back; I want to live!
Nobody responded to her pleas.
Everything was loose and weightless; she was floating away into oblivion. Helplessness, resignation, fear, anticipation, acceptance… a familiar strawberry fragrance wrapped around her, a hand outstretched to take her to the other side.
Fiora reached, oh how she reached. Fingertips brushed fingertips before hanging limply like a marionette suddenly cut loose.
I'll see you soon, Mama. Wait for me.
Fiora faded.
She drifted through darkness.
Why was she here? Where was everyone?
Do I…exist?
A limp figure stood out starkly in front of her, white on black.
Feathery blonde hair framed a soft angular face. She drifted closer to see, feel, sense. The figure's eyes were closed. Is that me?
It didn't feel like it.
Disembodied hand reached out.
Red eyes opened, staring straight through her.
She flinched and retreated, grateful the darkness enveloped her consciousness, and hid her from the foreign invasion.
She remained in hiding for a long time.
Whenever she thought about leaving the cozy darkness, red eyes always appeared in the darkness, frightening her. Hide-and-Seek was the twisted game they were playing.
She curled further into the darkness, seeking comfort and building a tangled fortress around herself.
Time passed.
The foreign entity probed around, scanning, violating.
She withdrew to the edges of her mind.
Cold…so cold.
It felt like millennia had passed. Still she hid.
She drifted and dreamed.
Dreamed of blue eyes she could drown in.
Wasn't she already drowning?
Dreamed of cool breezes, calloused pale palms, black warm sweater that smells like…like…
Did he exist?
Dreamed of cold blue light emitting from a red sword.
Like a beacon had been lit, the entity pounced on that thought, and forcefully reconstructed it. The boy materialized, blue eyes, awkward smiles, fierce determination. Shulk.
Shulk the entity repeated. It took him by the hand, and started leading him away.
No… she thought, reaching for him. Mine, not yours.
The vines she had built constricted around her. Her safety turned prison. No, no, no, no…
He looked forward, never behind.
Never came back for her.
No, no, no, no!
She would be left alone forever.
For the first time in a long time, she got angry. Burning, flaming, hot anger that scorched everything, including the vines, and the darkness retreated howling like a kicked dog.
The entity paused uncertainly.
She attacked with everything in her arsenal.
Cold hard determination contrasted sharp hissing anger like a cat that had been prodded one too many times. Like a cat, she unsheathed her claws and scratched anything she could reach. It was fast. It was furious. The staggering surge of emotion clearly took the entity, the intruder, off guard. The walls of her mind shook and trembled.
She didn't care.
Nobody, nobody was going to take him away!
It let go of Shulk, and threw up shields to stabilize the crumbling mind around them. It put up no fight when she snatched him –reabsorbing his memory- and ran.
She ran for a long time, seemingly stuck in place, footsteps echoing on a frozen black pool. No matter what, she swore, her memories belonged to her. When the entity tried to find her, probing touches light and fleeting, she ran in the opposite direction. It became something of a game. It was tiring.
It was also fun in a weird sense. She was alone, but not alone; the entity was her only real companion in this never-ending abyss. It caught up to her one day –week, month, year?- and stayed a respectable distance away as she sorted through her memories. She watched the fragments that contained parts of the mother that she'd known for barely four years. She wished she could go to her secret place…
The entity flickered curiously.
Focusing, she slowly reconstructed the fragments in her mind into something more substantial. Pushing it out felt like stretching a balloon to its maximum capacity; she had to pause to rest, the walls in her mind rumbling faintly. Immediately, the entity was by her side, and she prepared to run as it reached forward…
…and helped push the memory out?
Rocky walls shot up from the ground, and slices of darkness turned to long thin grass underfoot. Ripe red strawberries peeked out from their homes in the bushes. It was a brief glimpse of home.
It was also transparent.
She looked down, unwilling to give up the illusion. She had hands. Soft, pale hands. She turned them over in wonder. Slowly, she reached up and felt her 'head'. Fingers combed through shoulder length hair, brushing against the butterfly hair clip.
She was Fiora again.
Fiora…? A voice tested the name.
She turned around. Another female stood before her. It was like looking in a mirror. It was Fiora…but not Fiora. This Fiora had short, choppy locks that had clearly seen better days, had a body made of white metal, and red eyes. So familiar…so strange…
Fiora, the other Fiora tried again.
The red eyes weren't the monstrous kind she'd seen before. No, they were a lighter hue, almost a pink. It was a pretty shade.
Fiora opened her mouth to respond, but froze. She couldn't! There was no way... her throat clogged with ghostly metallic liquid, and she drew away, the landscape flickering wildly before collapsing in on itself.
Plunging her back into darkness.
No! she cried out. No, no, no, NO!
She was alone, she was alone, she was alone, she was alone, she was-
-Enveloped by a soothing presence. It wrapped her in a loose hug, giving her plenty of opportunity to escape if she wished. She didn't.
It took one of her memory shards, and gently pressed it back into her. She suddenly recalled the smell of baking with strawberries, sweet, sharp, tangy… old cookbooks, wood shavings, sunlight, home.
Mama?
No, the presence seemingly laughed.
…Fiora?
That's you, silly. It snuggled closer. She didn't mind; in fact, she gathered it closer. The faint shimmer it gave off was enough to stave off the darkness. It… she was warm, friendly, soothing, healing.
Who…?
My name is Meyneth, child.
When Fiora was eighteen years old, she had technically died. The only thing that kept her "alive" was a freak accident. Meyneth had been put into her body too soon, before her own soul could properly leave. Even so, Fiora was grateful. Grateful for the second chance, grateful to see Shulk, Reyn, and Dunban again, grateful to meet their new companions, grateful to feel the sun on her cheeks once more.
She had realized early on that her body was going to give out at some point; it had really sunk in when Meyneth sacrificed herself to buy them all time. Her body no longer recognized its original owner, having gotten used to being supported by another. It was like a control panel being written in another language when she wasn't looking.
She was slowly falling.
A High Entia princess was there to catch her when she fell. Melia told her about an ancient regeneration chamber deep in the tomb of her family. Fiora hardly dared to hope, but she wanted to so badly. Torn, she did the only thing that she could do-
"Give me a few days."
A puzzled frown. "Forgive me, but I thought you would jump at the chance."
Fiora smiled. "I have someone I want to talk to before I do anything. I hope you don't mind…?"
"Of course." Hesitance. Then, "If you ever need someone to talk to, I can hopefully be of assistance."
"Thank you, Melia. I'd really like that."
Fiora returned home; to her secret place.
She slid through the opening of the tunnel, and walked the familiar dirt trodden path. Fingers brushed along the ether crystals in the wall, saying hello after all this time. They didn't recognize the metal hand; there was no welcoming tingle. Nothing.
"Everything is alive, Fiora, if you know where to look."
She did.
Stepping into the clearing once again, she nearly felt at home. She walked among the grass, now only knee level, and sat smack in the middle. Leaning back on her hands, she stared up into the twilight sky.
"Mum," she started, and then cleared her suddenly thick throat. "Mum, I'm scared."
It all came pouring out: her death, Meyneth, Shulk staring at her like she would disappear if he so much as blinked, Reyn becoming more responsible, and Dunban fighting on with his left arm. She spoke of her new friends, the medic, the Heropon, and the High Entia princess, slowly explaining Zanza and the Reshaping of the world.
"I've met so many great people; I'm grateful. But Mum," she choked off, tears slipping down her face. "Mama, I'm dying. I don't want to die. Not yet. Not when I know Shulk and the others went to the ends of the world to bring me back. I want," she swallowed. "I want to grow old with everyone else. I want to see Sharla and Reyn to realize what they mean to each other, I want to see Riki's littlepon, I want to help rebuild Colony 6, I want to cook good edible food for Dunban… there are so many things I want to do, but I'm scared."
She took a deep breath. "I'm going to take Melia up on her offer to regenerate my body. Linada is helping too. It's going to take at least six months to do." She stared at her mechanical hands that looked like claws. "What if it doesn't work?" she asked quietly. "What if I'm stuck like this, slowly rotting from the inside? Worst case scenario: will you wait for me? Will anyone wait for me?"
A cool breeze rushed by her, and she paused to take it in, letting it revitalize her. The sky teetered on the edge of the beginnings of a full night sky. Fiora paused; she hadn't realized how much time had passed.
She looked around her, committing each detail of the clearing to memory. Her eyes lingered on a rather tall flower bud nearby. Right on cue with the night sky, its petals opened up, spreading itself wide for any possibilities to happen. All around the clearing, its siblings blossomed as well.
"Oh, does it have friends it can talk to?"
"Yes, it has its entire family here, so it's not lonely."
Fiora gradually smiled and stood. "You're right. I have to try. For me, for them."
With newfound determination, she started walking for the tunnel. Before she could take one step in, her body froze.
Two transparent arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. Wisps of flowing brown hair tickled Fiora's cheeks, and her nose picked up a faint trace of familiar shampoo. She turned her head slightly to the side. Green eyes met their mirror image.
Her mother smiled. "There is always a way," she murmured, voice a hollow echo.
Fiora's throat tightened. "I love you, Mama."
"I love you too, sweetheart. Now go. This chapter is ending."
A real, solid push made her stumble a few steps forward.
When she looked back, her mother was gone
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Upon exhaling, Fiora opened her eyes and resolutely faced forward.
A new chapter was unfolding, and she wouldn't miss it for the world.