New Leaves

The girl knelt, her fingers tracing the delicate edge of a new leaf. It was veined with a green so pale it was almost white, a fragile map of the life unfurling within. “They’re really growing,” Nyra said, her voice a soft murmur beside her. “I wasn’t sure they would.”

The girl nodded, a small movement. The sun was warmer on her back now, and the air carried the scent of damp earth and something else, something new and green. “The frost is gone for good, I think.” Nyra looked up at the sky, a vast, pale blue. “Yes,” she said. “The season has turned.”

The herb-gardener emerged from her small stone house, wiping her hands on her apron. She paused at the garden’s edge, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Look at that,” she said, her voice filled with a soft awe. “It seems like only yesterday we were putting the seeds in the ground.” She pointed to a cluster of tiny green shoots. “And there. That one’s already getting its first true leaves.”

The girl’s eyes softened as she looked at the rows of emerging seedlings. “They were her favourites,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “The ones with the bright, happy faces.” A single, perfect bud had formed on one of the taller stems, its petals still tightly furled. “They’re coming back,” the girl murmured, a sad, slow smile on her face. “Just like she said they would.”

The herb-gardener placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “She would have loved this,” she said softly. “All this new life.” The three of them stood together in silence, watching the garden breathe in the warm afternoon light, a promise of all the flowers yet to come.