Page 88 of Starside

I go rigid. Before now, I could count on my fingers how many flowers I’d seen in my life.

But here …

In a place like this, every page in our book would have been filled within hours. We would have needed an entire library of them.

I start picking some of them, weaving their stems into a bracelet, then a chain, then a crown, the way my sister and I used to weave together limp sticks we found outside. These are much more pliable. I rest the ring of daisies on my head, knowing it’s stupid, knowing it’s a waste of time, but remembering my promise to myself to soak up all the wonder I can on this quest.

“I wish you could see this …” I whisper, my voice getting lost in a gentle wind.

The trees are farther away from each other here, in two rows, but their tops lean together, making a canopy. Thick shards of sunlight filter through, in glimmering crosses. I run through them, leaving a path of petals in my wake, turn into another grove—then stop in my tracks.

A green dragon is sleeping on a bed of clover.

I tense. It could be vicious. Or … it could be friendly. Having a dragon would mean I wouldn’t need Raker. It would reduce my travel time significantly. Maybe, it could help me find my silver one.

I step forward, and its eyes open immediately.

They’re green. They sharpen, a ring of fire flashing through the irises—before they close again. That simple movement is a clear warning.

It doesn’t want to be claimed. It will kill me if I try.

Hint taken.

The dragon continues sleeping. I step around it carefully, and the more I walk, the more the forest thickens. Sunlight strains through the treetops.

Something lands on my nose, and I startle. But it’s only a grasshopper with a pink, blooming flower on its back. The flower … it’s part of its body. I slowly reach up to touch its petals. The moment I do, it flies away.

Then, the insects melded with flowers are suddenly everywhere, taking off from the trees, and swirling around me like a living bouquet. I whisper the names of the ones I know. Bluebell. Bloodroot. Honeysuckle. Cowslip. Daisy. They wear their blossoms on their backs.

Some fly around my head, sweeping down, examining the flowers I wear in my hair, then leaving. I almost smile.

Then something zips by my ear, nicking it, and I gasp, reaching up. There’s a tiny spot of blood on my finger.

I unsheathe my sword and whirl around. An arrow. Cadoc.

But no one’s there.

Something else buzzes by, too fast and loud to be one of the floral insects. I turn quickly, reach out—and catch it. I’m expecting another type of bug.

When my fingers uncurl, a tiny being is sitting in my palm. It looks like a child with the wings of a dragonfly. It bites my thumb, and I startle, loosening my hold.

It zips away in a rush of sparkling light.

Suddenly, the light is everywhere.

Shit. My hair is pulled in all directions, out of its braids. I turn and see only my own brown locks, being smothered right against my eyes and mouth, suffocating me. I trip over a rock and fall into the grass.

I swear I hear laughing.

“Stop,” I say, picking the creatures out of my hair and trying my best not to crush them as I throw them back into the breeze.

They don’t. They pull harder, and I clench my teeth in pain. It’s like they’re trying to rip my hair from my skull.

“Enough,” I growl. My nails dig into the ground until I clutch dirt, then I throw it into the air, into my own face.

Release.

There’s soft coughing and what sounds like cursing as they’re momentarily stunned, and I use that chance to fucking bolt. I push the loosened strands out of my face and rub the dirt from my eyes with my arm as I tear through the grove.