Foraging for Blackberry

The sun is shy today, peeking slowly over the tips of the trees, and the grass ever so slowly unbends from the weight of the dew and reaches up to the clear sky. Rosie is certain that if grass could think, it wouldn’t be very happy about the weight of an old and delightfully fat dragon stepping down from the doorstep and sliding slowly over it. The blackberry bushes, on the other hand, might be happy to see her – they’re bursting with fruits, branches bent low enough to graze the ground, begging to be picked.

For the past few days, Rosie has been able to smell the sweet fruits from the living room as she napped by the fire, and has been patiently letting the birds and beasties get the first pick. And now - it’s finally time to wander up the little forest path beyond the garden, and pick as many as she possibly can. They’ll be feasting on tarts and pies and muffins, and anything else she can think to make, for weeks to come.

“Is it time for my favourite jam, dear?” rumbles a cheery voice behind her, belonging to a large, beaming dragon with scales like melting bronze.

Rosie turns back and smiles at Goldscale’s hopeful face, every single expression of his all the more dear to her after over a century of living together. “Mind you look for your spectacles,” she says, as Goldscale nudges some big wicker baskets onto their doorstep with his tail. “If you find them, you can come help.” She picks up one of her baskets in her mouth, and Goldscale helps put the second one onto her back, setting it in place between her wide shoulders, and her small wings come up to balance it there.

“There we go. And I think I might just stay here and heat the stove instead, dear,” Goldscale says, with a small huff of flame hovering between his nostrils. “You know I don’t see all too well anymore, not even with my spectacles.”

“I know, love,” Rosie tuts, patting him affectionately on the shoulder with her tail.

Goldscale hums and haws and huffs another quick flame before turning back inside and bringing out a scarf bundles around his paws. “There’s still a bit of chill in the air,” he says warmly. “If you aren’t taking your coat, do at least take this.” He offers her the knitted plum-coloured scarf.

“That’s quite alright, dear,” Rosie starts, but Goldscale interrupts her.

“I know, I know, just – last time you caught a cold you sneezed my cookbook on fire.”

“Yes, love, but I got you a new one just last spring – it doesn’t have any blackberry-related recipes in it, does it?”

“Oh, it does, but I think I’ll leave that a little gift for when you get back,” Goldscale winks. “I was going to surprise you. I suppose you won’t mind if I take a few blackberries from the back garden, then? I’m sure the birds won’t miss them.”

“Oh, that’s a champion idea, dear,” Rosie beams. “I look forwards to it -take as many as you need.”

“And you take the scarf!”

“Alright, dear,” Rosie chuckles, and Goldscale wraps the scarf around her neck and gives her a kiss on the cheek before bumbling back inside to make his little surprise.

Humming softly to herself, Rosie heads up the path, and soon she’s walking past a burbling stream that seems equally overjoyed to see her, leaping up over the rocks to wave hello. She waves back with a smile, and carries on her walk until, far in the distance, she can see the bend in the river where it rushes in a torrent down out of the forest and past the mill belonging to the nearby village. At this point she sets down her baskets and starts gathering the ripe blackberries, still humming softly to herself.

Her son works as a baker there at the village, but she and Goldscale find it hard to come visit him any more – past this point the path becomes steep, and their joints are getting older. But when they do, they bring a big cart full of pastries and sweet-things for all the town to snack on – especially the little human children, who beg rides on their backs and bring them all sorts of sticks and stones and trinkets as gifts.

Lost in thought about the village folk, Rosie doesn’t at first realise anything is out of the ordinary when she spots a small human child trundling determined up the path, barely old enough to be walking at all.

“Hullo, dear,” she huffs amicably, and them stops in her tracks, and wipes her purple-stained paws on the grass. “Well!” she says, patting her face for her reading spectacles, but they’re sitting at home over the fireplace; she has to make do with squinting at the little thing. “Aren’t you small! Where are your parents at, dear?”

The little child stops in front of her and garbles something entirely incomprehensible in baby-talk, reaching a pudgy hand towards her.

“Oh! Really?” Rosie asks with a smile, leaning down to blow a puff of hot air onto the wide-eyed toddler’s face, and they smile grudgingly. “Isn’t that exciting!” Rosie continues as the child grumbles something else. “Now, we’ll have to find who’s looking after you,” she murmurs to herself, and pulls her scarf off, bundling it into the empty wicker basket. “Up we go!” she says brightly, scooping the child into her paws and setting them gently down into the cushioned basket, where they grip the side with their little fingers and stare wide-eyed at Rosie.

“Come along, dear,” she clucks, using her tail to hoist the basket half-filled with blackberries onto her back, and picking the one with the baby up in her teeth.

“Hello?” she calls thickly around the handle. “Anyone losht a child?”

There’s no sound as far as she can hear, so she wanders up and down the road, her joints protesting whenever she gets too far down the steep decline heading to town. Before too long she has to stop and put the child down for a minute to catch her breath. The toddler has just started to wail, and if that doesn’t catch anyone’s attention, Rosie doesn’t think that she could do a better job.

“Well, dear,” she says, “I simply can’t get you down to town, not with these old bones of mine. I shall simply have to take you home and look after you until someone thinks to look for you there, or we can get the wagon ready and take you down tomorrow.”

“Rosie?” comes a distant call, somehow audible over the surprisingly loud wailing.

“Goldie?” she calls back merrily, brightening and picking up the crying toddler again, making her way quickly back up the path.

“That’s me!” Goldscale beams, his long snout appearing around the trunk of a tree long before the rest of him does. “I have a spare basket if you like, and – oh! Who’s this I hear – and see!”

“I found them wandering,” Rosie says, placing the basket down.

Briefly, the child stops crying, and reaches out towards Goldscale firmly.

“Dragon,” she says clearly.

“Well, look at that!” Goldscale says, and reaches up to lower his spectacles from his head. “What a lovely little thing you’ve brought! Why don’t we get you two nice and warmed up, hm? Was she lost?”

“I think so,” Rosie nods. “But I see you found your spectacles!”

“I did?” Goldscale asks, and pats at his face. “Oh, dear. Oh, silly me! They must have been there all along.”

“Quite,” Rosie laughs. “And sillier me for not noticing either! A pair of fools we are!”

“A very merry pair,” Goldscale smiles, looking back with twinkling eyes.

The toddler chortles as if they too understand what they’re laughing about, and Goldscale tickles their side with a blunt claw, making them squeal with laughter.

They bring the toddler home safe – Goldscale had lit the fire earlier, and it’s settled into warm embers. Rosie watches the child while Goldscale shows off his surprise for her – a pot of steaming, scented blackberry tea.

“And blackberry syrup cooling in jars in the river,” he says proudly as Rosie sips her tea quickly between rounds of entertaining the child.

“You did a wonderful job, love,” she tells him sweetly. “Why don’t you take a turn with – well, we can’t keep calling them the child.”

“Call them little Blackberry,” Goldscale nods. “Since that’s what you were out looking for.”

“Champion idea, love! Here, you take a turn with little Blackberry; they’re all but starting to cry again.”

On cue, Blackberry sniffles – only to calm down the second Goldscale sighs, lies down, and lets them try to clamber all over his spikes.

“A troublemaker already,” Goldscale laughs warmly, when Blackberry has tired themselves out and is taking a nap against his side.

“Well,” Rosie huffs, blinking awake from her own short-lived nap, “They’re certainly less trouble than ours was. Do you think the pies are about ready, dear?”

Goldscale sniffs deeply a few times. “Yes, I’d say so. You get them out dear, the little thing is sleeping on me and I wouldn’t like to wake them.”

Rosie nods and heaves herself up, bringing the pies out of the oven. The tops of them are perfectly golden and buttery, and the smell has wafted through the whole cottage by now. And just as Rosie puts them on the side to cool, there’s a knock at the door and Goldscale shifts. “Get the door, dear, I’ll set the table,” he yawns, very gently trying to move a sleepy Blackberry.

“Right,” she nods, trundling over to the door as fast as her short legs will take her, and unlocks it to the sight of two young women, one clutching desperately at the other. “Hullo, you two,” she smiles widely. “Wouldn’t happen to be looking for a wee little thing?”

“Oh, you have her?” the shorter, more desperate one asks, frantically wringing her hands.

“Yes, we brought her in, don’t you worry,” Rosie smiles, and they both sag with relief.

“How many guests?” Goldscale calls.

“Two!” Rosie shouts back over her shoulder, and there’s a small squeal that presumably came from the child. “Come on in, dears,” she says warmly. “We’ve just baked pies, would you lovely ladies like some?”

“We’d be delighted,” the taller woman smiles, and they eagerly follow Rosie in, closing the door behind them and squealing at the sight of the little girl crawling happily towards them.

“What a little troublemaker you two have!” Goldscale booms, merrily bringing a fourth plate over and cutting the pie. He snorts a ring of smoke that immediately captivates Blackberry, sat between the young women. “You know, she was wandering all over when we found her, racing around like you’d never seen!”

“And you didn’t see,” Rosie scolds him, “Because you weren’t there, dear, I found her first – though she was running around a great deal.”

“Just like I said,” Goldscale says triumphantly, slapping a paw on the table before leaning down to nibble politely at his slice of pie. “Lovely little trouble maker.”

“Oh, no, she was absolutely champion,” Rosie assures the two young ladies, reaching over a paw to pat her hands. “No trouble at all, unlike my old man here.”

“Hey,” Goldscale laughs. “I’ll have you know you went out for blackberries and came back with a little human! I don’t know where you find these things, dear.”

“Oh,” Rosie scoffs, swishing her tail over to smack him gently. “Don’t you start, now. And you two – what’s the little lass’s name? We’ve been calling her our little Blackberry, we have!”

“That’s very sweet,” the taller woman laughs, running a hand through her messy brown hair, putting it a little more in order. “She’s called Sunny – and this is Hope, and I’m Jay.”

“Oh, such lovely names!” Rosie says, her tail thumping the floor in her enthusiasm. “I’ll pack you two some more pies, we baked plenty.”

“We were going to take little – little Sunny here – down to the town, but if we were to go, we’d have to make some pie deliveries too, of course,” Goldscale nods. “It’s a long trip for us now so we don’t go so much, you see, and we’d have an awful lot to take care of while we were there.”

“Well, thank you ever so much,” Jay smiles, a hand on her heart. “I was bringing in the firewood and she must have seen me leave the house and tried to follow.”

“Brave little thing,” Goldscale chuckles, puffing another smoke ring towards Sunny and chuckling as she tries to catch it, almost falling over when her hands pass straight through.

“That she is,” Rosie agrees warmly, digging out some cloths and carefully wrapping up the pies. “Were you looking for long, sweethearts?”

“Not terribly long,” Hope pipes up. “Just enough to start really worrying, when I thought we’d better go up to you two to ask, since we hear you’re out and about quite a lot, especially what with blackberry season.”

“Ooh, maybe in the old days,” Rosie laughs. “I’m a little too stiff for that now, and Goldscale’s a little too blind.”

“Not now I have my spectacles, dear, I can see everything,” Goldscale says, and waggles his eyebrows. Rosie smacks him again with her tail, tutting as she hands the little bundles of pies wrapped in cream cloth to Jay, and Hope gathers up Sunny in her arms.

“If there’s anything we can do,” Hope begins tentatively.

“Now, here’s a thought - you two come visit!” she tells them firmly. “The heavens know we don’t get enough visitors, especially not now we can’t deliver as many pies as before.”

“We will absolutely visit,” Jay laughs. “Thank you so very much, really. Sunny seems to love you two.”

“No problem, dear,” Rosie smiles, heaving herself up and laying a paw on Jay’s shoulder. “You three take very good care, and if you need anything, let us know!”

“We will,” Hope promises, waving over her shoulder as they leave.

Goldscale snorts a veritable cloud of smoke. “What lovely lasses they all are,” he says, and then, “Rosie, dear, are my spectacles still on my head?”

“No,” Rosie says, and Goldscale pats at his head despondently.

“Rosie, dear?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’ve lost my spectacles again.”

“I’ll help you look,” Rosie sighs with a chuckle, “But tomorrow we’ll go and pick blackberries together.”

“Alright, dear,” Goldscale agrees. “Together.”

~~~~~~

“Well, if it isn’t our little Blackberry! Oh, you must have grown a foot since I last saw you!” Rosie hears Goldscale boom from the doorway, and she immediately shakes the dirt from her paws, puts down her shovel, and rushes indoors through their little stone house. She peers over Goldscale’s shoulder at the abashed seven-year-old swaying with her hands clasped, the picture of childish innocence that still fails to mask the troublemaking gleam in her eyes.

“You be good, now,” Jay tells her. “Aunty Rosie has been busy baking a lot of pies and she must be very tired, so don’t you cause no trouble!”

“I won’t, ma,” Sunny says without looking back, grinning sharply. “Uncle Goldscale, can I have a piggy-back?”

“Hop on up, dear,” Goldscale chuckles, bending his head to let Sunny clamber up onto his shoulders just between his wings.

“Will you and Hope be coming for dinner when you get back, sweethearts?” Rosie asks hopefully, and Jay shrugs.

“We can do, if it’s no trouble, though it would be quite late tonight, and I’m not sure we could take Sunny back in the dark, you see.”

“Oh, you’re always very welcome to stay the night,” Rosie clucks. “Goldie has picked some marvellous mushrooms and I’m making a stew – I’ll put some in a pot for you two and you can have it when you arrive, if we’re not awake, and I’ll get the spare room ready for you.”

“Well,” Jay hesitates. “I suppose it would be convenient.”

“There we go,” Goldscale booms. “I told you you’d persuade her, dear.”

“Hush now,” Rosie scoffs, and waves good-bye to Jay as she heads up the path and pauses to look back and tip her hat. “Now!” she says, when she's gone, and turns around to face a mischievously grinning Sunny. “How about a game of snaps?”

“I love snaps,” Sunny grins enthusiastically.

“And you’re good at it, too, pet,” Goldscale rumbles, ruffling her hair. “The best snaps player in all the forest!”

“And in the town,” Sunny says proudly. “They all say so. I’ve beaten everyone in snaps, except little Jack, because he doesn’t know how to play yet, and keeps trying to eat the cards.”

“Hey, there’s a good strategy,” Goldscale muses. “Don’t you think, Rosie?”

“I’m not too sure,” Rosie chuckles, bringing out the snaps cards and setting them down.

“Do you have pie?” Sunny demands, before tacking on a quick, “please?”

“I suppose you should give her some,” Goldscale snorts gruffly, “Since she’s so very polite.”

“She is too,” Rosie agrees, pretending not to see Sunny beaming behind her hands. “I suppose I’ll have to give her a nice big slice of pie, unless she’d prefer bread-and-butter with some blackberry jam?”

“Pie,” Sunny says immediately.

“Why not both?” Goldscale asks with a smile, and walks over to the kitchen to get everything ready while Rosie plays a game of snaps, losing with grace.

“Thank you,” Sunny remembers to say halfway through her slice of pie, with cream smeared around her mouth, and Rosie fetches her a cloth to wipe her face on.

“So, what trouble did you get up to today?” Goldscale asks.

“Can’t tell you,” Sunny says, licking her fingers clean and immediately reaching for the jam. “Secret!”

“Oh, is it, now!” Goldscale chuckles. “I suppose I shan’t ask anymore, then.”

“Our young lady is growing up to be very mysterious,” Rosie agrees, and Sunny grins smugly behind her hand.

“Aunty Rosie?” Sunny asks once she’s finished her meal, and Goldscale is humming to himself while he clears up the dishes and washes out the empty jam-jar – though it looks like half the contents of it have been smeared over Sunny’s hands and face.

“Yes, dear?” Rosie asks, looking up at her.

“Humans can’t breathe fire, can they?”

“No, sweetie, not unless they learn magic.”

“Can you teach me that?”

“Well,” Rosie huffs, sitting herself down. “I don’t know any magic myself, but I think Goldscale might know a few people who do. We could always look into it for you, if that’s what you’re wanting. It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it? I’m sure we could find a few books for you. Why are you asking, dear?”

“I’d like that. And it’s because I’m going to be a dragon when I grow up,” Sunny says boldly.

“You’ll make a wonderful dragon, dear,” Rosie smiles. “But you should know, dragons do like to keep nice and clean, and they’re always very polite.”

“Are they,” Sunny muses with pursed lips, then jumps up and runs to wash her face mostly clean before running back and hugging Rosie’s neck, leaving sticky fingerprints on her soft pink scales. “Thank you, Aunty Rosie,” she says firmly. “Thank you, Uncle Goldscale! Thank you, um… Oven! For baking the pies! And maybe also thank you kettle for making me some hot chocolate, please-pretty-please?”

“Kettle says it would love to make some hot chocolate for such a nice little girl,” Rosie says with a smile, and gets busy making some for her.

~~~~~

“Hullo, Aunty!” Calls a very familiar voice, and Rosie wakes up from her snooze to spy a cheerful round face in the window, surrounded by a circle of melted frost.

“Well!” she calls, getting up with a groan and pottering over to the door. “If it isn’t our little Blackberry – Goldscale! Get your shiny paws down here and look who’s visiting!”

“What was that?” calls Goldscale, poking his head around the corner. “Oh! If it isn’t our little Blackberry - how wonderful!”

“Hello, Uncle Goldscale,” Sunny laughs with a hand on her heart, before she holds up a little cloth bag. “Hope baked some raspberry tarts for the two of you, says sorry she can’t come but she’s helping Jay with the firewood this year, we had a leak in the wood shed and it all got wet.”

“Oh, dearie,” Rosie mumbles, closing the door behind Sunny as cold air starts to rush in. “You do have enough to get through the winter, don’t you?”

“Oh, we moved it outside and I just dried it out for them,” Sunny whistles merrily, peeking into the living room and throwing a hand out to the fireplace. Immediately, a bolt of flame shoots from her palm and ignites a pleasant fire that time had turned to embers while Rosie slept.

“Aren’t you talented,” Rosie says admiringly.

“And we expected nothing else!” shouts Goldscale, and Rosie sighs with a fond smile.

“Keep it down, dear,” she says loudly. “We’re not quite so deaf as you are.”

“Some of us, that is,” Sunny snorts. “I daresay you have the best hearing of the three of us, Aunty. All we do at mage school is throw fireballs and make explosions – none of us can hear a thing anymore! Not literally, of course.”

“Well, well,” Rosie tuts. “They shouldn’t be putting you so close to these explosions, dear.”

“Well,” Sunny says, and has the grace to look abashed. “The ones we do in class are far enough away. It’s just the, um… Practice ones that aren’t.”

“Still a troublemaker, as ever!” Goldscale laughs. “Course you are. We don’t have pie this time, I’m afraid!”

“I brought tarts!”

“She brought tarts,” Rosie echoes, a little louder, as Goldscale looks briefly puzzled, and then his face brightens.

“Tarts! Wonderful. I do love tarts. Hope’s tarts?”

“Yep,” Sunny nods eagerly.

“Those are the best,” Goldscale nods. “I really don’t know how she does it.”

Rosie looks at him. “I though you said my tarts were the best, dear,” she says, and poor Goldscale doesn’t know what to say before Sunny mercifully rescues him by bringing something out of her coat pocket with a flourish.

“Look what I got you,” she tells Goldscale, handing it over with a grin.

“Oh?” Goldscale asks, reaching out to take the thin, glittering chain from Sunny’s hand. “Rosie, dear, can you find my spectacles?”

“They’re on the side,” Sunny laughs, pointing to the kitchen counter, and Rosie quickly hands them to Goldscale.

“What’ve you got, then?” she asks curiously, peering over his shoulder at the trinket.

“It’s a chain for the spectacles!” Sunny says brightly. “So you can hang them around your neck, and won't lose them so much!”

“Oh!” Goldscale says, a delighted smile brightening up the whole room. “Oh, you’re all grown up now, aren’t you, dear?”

“He’s right, you know - you must’ve grown a foot since I last saw you,” Rosie says cheerily. “How old are you now, sweetheart?”

“I’m nineteen, Aunty,” Sunny laughs, grabbing the spectacles and quickly fixing the chain onto them while Goldscale fumbles. “You saw me a month ago, and I haven’t grown a bit since!”

“Oh, no, you’re taller than ever,” Goldscale assures her. “You’ll be towering over the house soon enough!”

“You’d have to open a window and pass me pie from the inside,” Sunny laughs. “It would be terrible!”

“And you’d no doubt catch a chill in this weather,” Rosie notes. “You are quite warm, aren’t you?”

“Perfectly, as ever,” Sunny agrees. “That’s what being a fire mage’ll do to you. And please, how are you two?”

“Getting old and older still,” Goldscale says merrily. “Older and fatter, that is, and sometimes a little wiser, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

“And happier, too, I hope,” Sunny winks, laying out a spread of tarts and beckoning them to eat.

“We’re both all the more so for seeing you, sweetheart,” Rosie nods. “And wouldn’t you know, little Jack came up the other week and said his mother’s dog had had three puppies, and if we wouldn’t know anyone who would take some! Of course, we can’t have dogs up here, not without worrying about them all the time, but I thought to suggest you.”

“Oh!” Sunny gasps. “Yes, he said about that! I’m taking two and he’s keeping the last - but I don’t suppose you two could help me name them?”

“How about Blackberry and Raspberry?” Goldscale suggests. “Like your nickname. And, well, raspberries.”

“Oh - those are lovely names – thank you very much! But, I've been wondering, why do you call me that?” Sunny asks, tilting her head, and Rosie chuckles.

“Well, that’s the same reason as to why we know you at all!”

“Go on,” Sunny smiles, leaning over the table with her hand under her chin.

“Well, it was a very long time ago now, when I was out going to pick blackberries - and wouldn’t you know, I see a little human toddler running along screaming her poor head off…”

“Wasn’t I the one who found her?” Goldscale argues.

“Hush, you,” Rosie scolds. “I did.”

~~~~~

It’s a cold summer day, but it’s clear – and it’s been cloudy all week. So Rosie is out in the garden, trying to nap in the sun and ignoring the occasional cold chill – but the second a wave of hot air sweeps over her, it quite wakes her up. She lifts her head to see Sunny gently floating down, fire streaming from her hands and dissipating as she alights.

“Well, hello, little Blackberry,” Rosie smiles.

“Hello, Aunty,” Sunny says, kneeling by her and pressing her forehead to Rosie’s paw, leaving a warm spot even after she lifts herself. “You look the same as ever.”

“Hm,” Rosie sighs deeply. “It’s wonderful to see you again, dear.”

Sunny smiles, inclines her head, and then turns and walks over to the slightly gold-tinged statue in the garden, a pair of spectacles with a golden chain hung from them balancing precariously on the end of its nose.

Sunny stares up at it quietly, and Rosie shifts to sit next to her, looking at the stone figure that’s the perfect likeness of Goldscale.

“You know, dear,” Rosie says, looking at the foot of the statue. “It’s… So very empty, now, you know? I quite got used to all of his shouting. He really did know how to fill a room.”

Sunny is quiet, then lifts a hand to wrap around Rosie’s shoulder. “He did, didn’t he?” she chuckles warmly, and squeezes her into a quick hug before releasing her. “I don’t think it’ll ever be quite the same again. Not with you two. But for now, I brought you a present.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Rosie says with a reproachful huff, turning away from the statue’s shade and moving into the sun. A lazy smile spreads over her face as Sunny pulls a cloth bag from mid-air and unwraps it to reveal a dozen small blackberry pies.

“I made them myself,” she says with a proud flourish. “Just for you, Aunty.”

Rosie blinks. “You know, honey,” she starts, voice wobbling. “Goldscale and I are so, so proud of you.”

“With all my heart,” Sunny smiles, a hand on her heart, “That means the world to me, Rosie. Thank you. Thank you for being my family, and I mean it, I do. You two are the best Aunty and Uncle I could ever ask for.”

Rosie sniffs, smiles, and eats a pie.

“Wonderful,” she burps.

“Would you like to eat inside or stay out here?” Sunny asked, her laugh poorly concealed behind her hand.

“It’s warm enough, and the sun is out, dear. Let’s enjoy these beautiful pies right where we are.”

~~~~

It’s the late reaches of winter, and frost coats the ground each morning but melts away by midday, not quite cold enough for snow anymore. And just before the frost is done melting for the day, Sunny flies up to a little stone cottage, steam streaming around her in a white trail. She stops middair, and when the steam obscuring her vision has turned into a gentle trickle rising from her warm skin, she can see that the familiar small garden is unusually unkept, and there in the corner…

There in the corner, in the shade of Goldscale’s statue, lies a second stone dragon. This one is pink-hued, her stone tail wrapped over Goldscale’s and paws draped lovingly over his. Rosie.

“Oh,” Sunny says, losing her balance and falling the last metre to the ground, the cloth bag cradled against her chest falling to the floor. Two jars of dark blackberry jam roll out, just catching the sunlight and glowing vibrant pink in the corners.

“Hello, Aunty Rosie,” Sunny whispers, kneeling in front of the statue, her hands brushing the stone. For the first time in years, she feels a slight chill in her hands at the touch.

“I learned how to make jam for you,” she continues on faintly. “I thought you might like it. It was always Goldscale’s favourite, too, wasn’t it? I’m sorry I… couldn’t get it to you earlier. I know you would’ve loved it... You always did have the biggest heart.”

~~~~

On an early spring day, when the sun is peeking shyly over the tips of the trees and the grass is unbending from the weight of the dew, two birds whistle cheery tunes at each other. In a cranny between two sleeping dragon statues, and surrounded by blackberry brambles, they’ve finally found the perfect place to build their home.