Unnamed

She never really had a name to call her own. Nothing felt quite right, not Ivy, nor Moss, nor Dahlia, nor Rose. She hated to think of it, but she felt dissatisfied. She shouldn’t be! That would disappoint the Gladekeeper, the glorious deity she was. So the Skydancer swept her mask up and fixed it onto her face. Leaf, or Flower, or Daisy, or whoever she was played the innocent Skydancer with a love for beekeeping. Her clan would refer to her by any name really, once she was asked enough times what exactly she was called. But, of course, although she didn’t quite know who she was, she knew a few things.

She liked beekeeping, she thought plants were her friends, and she was oh so dissatisfied. It wasn’t that she’d ever disrespect the Gladekeeper’s majestic creations — no, that would be slander. She enjoyed the silence of nature, but it was not enough.