As the autumn leaves fluttered this way and that, racing through Sara's outstretched fingers, she felt a chill race down her spine. Winter's chill. Soon the blustering winds. A frozen rose, lingering from a sudden frost. The last remaining rose of summer, taken into an icy dream--of kisses and dances--of the first smile given from a stranger's lips.
Now the winds blew gentle, her cheeks rosy, auburn hair wavering, the feeling of love coursing through her chest. Summer had been full of roses, the scent of heaven wafting through her nostrils. Then a sudden rain had come, leaving the already dreary island cold, with its oaks cracked and shattered, like a great warrior struck down, his pride broken at last.
But to Sara, the wind smelled of heaven, eternal happiness in the arms of winter. Sadness to some, treasures to few, death lying in wait for the fool to slumber. When she ran her fingers across her face, she felt the night-time dew flowering over her hands. First a sprinkle, then an anguish of the flood, was it the dew or something bursting from inside?
She studied her palms, lines spreading across the universe, and she knew she could feel whole again. Not broken, not bitter, free of the pain and torment of the past. Then a smile crept across her face. It was the smile of winter, the elegance of frost. Would it last the whole season?
Then she stared at her treasure, a ring of amber and amethyst, given by a stranger, the first gift of love. For she was sixteen, unflowered, unbroken by the world and all its dreads. Pain had come in different ways to her. To her family, her village, her island. Slain and sold, left to a life of misery; they were gone, would she ever see them again?
It was too late, they had told her. Their enemies had left their poison, and now the only thing left was its sting. To die was a precious thing, but to stay and endure this life... Perhaps another life awaited her. With the ring, with the promise, with the stranger who had touched her hand. His mouth full of glitter, of distant lands, sun and stars guiding their way--until a new life greeted them on fragrant shores.
Was this the life for her, or should she embrace the moon and ride the dark waves into death--taken, consumed, crushed by the Eagle? Then life was cease, or would it rise again?
But in the hands of a stranger, perhaps life would flourish again. Can a new love lead to the blossoms of spring? She gazed at the ring, closed her eyes, and made a promise to herself. She would find peace, after the rains.
