Zennias

Dove slumped down on one of the two small beds in her shared room. Glenn was absent, probably catching up to her duties after an afternoon plagued by allergies. Dove looked wistfully at the small vase of zennias she’d arranged next to her bed — she’d actually enjoyed speaking with the gardener about the different kinds of flowers and their meanings, and had asked for these specifically to commemorate their stay at the Blumetts’ estate. With a sigh, she took the flowers from the vase and dumped them into a small bin, which she then placed outside the door. It was clear that any type of flower could not coexist with Glenn’s fragile sinuses. She would dispose of them in the morning.
 
The day’s antics were an absolute thrill. She had Dominic’s poor dead duck tied to the underside of one of the Sterling carriages for now, a task which had been disturbingly supervised by the spirit of that same duck. This, of course, only was accomplished after spending an eternity listening to Lady Ruby jabber on and on about her figure, about Dominic, about the season’s fashions and her superficial aspirations, all while commanding Dove to play with different variations of hairstyles and outfit changes. The only thing that got Dove through the evening was the thought of Dominic’s face when Ruby would inevitably come to assault him in a horrid green dress, complaining about sports and nagging him to take her on as his trophy wife. She really hoped Ruby would try to fence with him and embarrass them both terribly. Maybe she could even convince Honey to fly up and startle Ruby mid-match. That would be hilarious.
 
Yes, it had been a late night. But just one more day of the Blumetts, and then Donlon. She thought she’d never get to return, and even then, she could never have imagined she’d greet the city with protection -- and even friends -- alongside her. Things had seemed bleak for so long — life often felt like one of the tight rope acts she'd seen in the city as a child, and she was certain that sooner or later it would all come crashing down on her. But now, things were looking up extraordinarily, and she could not believe her good fortune. Somehow she was headed back to the city that raised her. The city where she’d last tasted happiness, where she’d last seen Bear, last explored the hidden tunnels under the streets. She envisioned the bright, enticing world of her childhood: sweet-smelling stalls of baked goods, bursting pockets just begging to be picked, plenty of unknown spaces to discover like she used to with her old friend.
 
Dove couldn’t help but smile. She had no idea where he was or what he was doing, but even the tiniest chance of bumping into Berig “Bear” the Brave was enough to fill her with excitement.
 
She drifted off to sleep, dreaming happily of ducks, and of bees, and of a great friendly grizzly with wide welcoming arms.