A seed drifts by

A seed drifts by

This post, including all of the images, is a CC0-licensed contribution to Wanderverse.

Meet Plumule, a seed fairy who hasn't the slightest idea where she came from.

She remembers spinning joyously in the wind before coming to rest in the meadow. Nothing else. But Plumule isn't bothered. It's beautiful here, warm and calm.

She plays on the breeze, soft air catching under her leaves. Whirling her across the grass, which covers the ridges and dips of a labyrinth that was dug into the meadow long ago.

After some time Plumule becomes dizzy, so she nestles into a clump of wildflowers to recuperate. On and on she snoozes until the sun sets.

Much later, the repeated mournful call of an owl wakes the little pixie.

Plumule flits through the dark clearing, restless in the raw moonlight. She finds herself dancing the path of the labyrinth, soothed by its spiraling twists.

Suddenly, out from the black tangle of branches on the far edge of the meadow swoops an owl. Perhaps it is the one that she heard earlier. The bird's arrival startles Plumule out of her hypnotic motion. She zips down into the grass where she cannot be seen. After a frozen moment, Plumule peers back up cautiously.

The owl is flying the labyrinth, as she did. Four times the bird cycles in and then out. On the fifth he lands in the center. The moon casts a strange blue glow on his feathers as he folds his wings to his sides. The owl scratches at the ground with his talons, somewhat ungainly now compared to his magnificent grace in flight.

Before Plumule can tell what he is doing, the owl is finished. He hoots three times, then takes to the air again, carving the pattern of his fifth exit from the labyrinth. The bird sails into the black night again.

Once more Plumule sleeps, this time until morning.

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