¬ Hiln
The wildflowers were heavy in my arms.
I clutched the bundle against my chest as I ran, my bare feet slapping against the dirt path that wound through the village. The other children's laughter faded behind me. I was already racing to our house.
Papa needed to see the ones I picked today.
They were so pretty.
I burst through the entrance, breathless and grinning, petals scattering in my wake.
"Papa!"
He turned from the hearth. His face was warm, tired, but softened by the firelight. His eyes crinkled at the corners the way they always did when he saw me.
"Little one." His voice was a soothing low rumble. "What have you brought me this time?"
I thrust the flowers toward him, bouncing on my heels. "I picked the purple ones!"
He knelt, arms opening wide, and I threw myself into his embrace.
The moment I touched him, I felt my happiness slip away.
What was happening?
"Uh…?"
