Haste is of the Devil

Peg had gone to the lake on a mission, determined to root among the various flowers in late bloom to bring back to Célestin. Not for any romantic gesture of course but because his mother was a healer and he supposed she might be able to use them. As he wandered closer to a patch of marigold however he was unable to help but think of how the flower reminded him of the mottled boy, although so did periwinkle and to an extent so did meadowsweet. He had carefully gathered a veritable bouquet for his friend when the first of the fireflies began to appear. He followed the dizzy trail their twinkling lights gave off and sat with a calm smile, flowers still held gently in his mouth.

Idly he looked over the nearby lake and then frowned as it seemed the fireflies had taken a keen interest in someone sitting on the laakeshore. An instinctive tug told him he recognized the slight shape barely illuminated by the swarm and for an instant everything inside him froze. “It can’t be…” The flowers fell from his mouth, his mind suddenly washed blank as he approached the female, jaws agape. As he drew closer he could feel his heart begin to pound in his ears. His eyes were seeing something that his mind told him was impossible.

“...Sphinx?”

Talking Thinking You