Cornflower’s New Name – p.9

Except for the blinking of the fireflies, Cornflower’s world was black. Even if she dared lift her head to look, the forest canopy would be blocking her view of the stars.

She felt dizzy again; it was not a sensation she enjoyed. When the other children would spin in circles to try to make themselves faint, she would hang back, never participating, only laughing at their staggered walking and catching them when they inevitably fell. She had experienced real dizziness before when she was ill, and her stomach was now doing the familiar tumbling that meant her last meal would likely be coming back up to greet her. Today, since she had eaten only a handful of berries many hours past, there was nothing coming.

Cornflower began to cry.

The tears came first, then the sobs, then her whole body shook as she wailed. She didn’t care anymore about holding still or being eaten by the spider. She was tired, hungry, alone and completely lost. She tried to lift her hands to her face, but they were full of pins and needles from being at her sides for so long, and she could only raise them halfway.

She stopped crying abruptly when she realized she was now standing in the exact same position as the women from her vision.