Small things first, then:

A walk in the woods: honeysuckle grasp for the sunlight, blackberries ripen in the bramble. My dog's teeth snaps around a blade of grass. Small, sharp things await in the shadows.

In the castle garden: the fluttering of small tortoiseshells and red admirals, at least a dozen.

Words gather on a page, and coelesce: an ear, an eye, sinew and blood and bone, knitting together into a woman, then unmade, now a bird, maybe a flower.

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