Willow

Birch lay in the fresh green grass, watching the shadows of tree leaves dance across the sleeping form lying next to her. The dappled spring sunlight warmed her own rich brown fur, and her eyelids threatened to close with pleasure as a sweet-smelling breeze ruffled her mane. She rolled onto her side, her half-closed eyes taking in the familiar shape of her mate…

Just as Birch’s eyelids threatened to shut completely, a pink blossom drifted down from the tree above and alighted softly on her lover’s forehead….

Birch’s gaze fixated on that single blossom, so delicate, so fragile. But the longer she stared at it, the more Birch began to feel… unsettled. The more she pondered those pristine petals, the more she began to realize that the flower’s beauty, its allure, was not simply its physical appearance-- it was the fact that that physical beauty was fleeting. The knowledge that mere hours from now, the immaculate flower resting on her loved one would become an unrecognizable, shriveled bit of debris, dried by the sun and lost in a sea of grass, made the observer inexplicably sad.

She turned her attention back to the dragon still asleep next to her.

It had been on a spring day much like this one that they had met, exactly one year ago. Their love had seemed so effortless, so perfect, so pure. Blissful days blurred into weeks, which had faded into months. Twelve of them to be exact.

A whole year…

Birch’s brow furrowed. She let out a huff of air and sent the tiny pink petal careening off into the sea of grass, never to be seen again.

With the disappearance of the flower, a sudden determination gripped her. Silently, she shifted to her feet, careful not to let her shadow fall over that sleeping figure, lest it should wake.

Perhaps a year had been enough. Perhaps it had been too much. Perhaps perfect petals weren’t meant to last forever.

Yes, it was time to search for something else.