From a memory deep inside her, so faint it only held sounds and slips of color, a tiny, three-year-old Azalea wailed, "Papa."

"Papa," said Azalea to the lifeless form of the King. The word was so forgein, it choked her throat. "Papa... you can't leave us, Papa... It would be very...out of order-"

Bramble knelt opposite her, grasping the King's bandaged hand.

"She's-she's right, Papa," Bramble stuttered. "We have...rules..."

Clover fell to her knees and pressed her handkerchief to his chest. Blood soaked through.

"Papa," she whispered.

The girls knelt around the King, their skirts spead out like forlorn blossoms, swallowing , and whispering one word.

"Papa."

"Papa."

"Papa.

Author: Heather Dixon Wallwork

From a memory deep inside her, so faint it only held sounds and slips of color, a tiny, three-year-old Azalea wailed, "<i>Papa</i>."<br /><br />"Papa," said Azalea to the lifeless form of the King. The word was so forgein, it choked her throat. "Papa... you can't leave us, Papa... It would be very...out of order-"<br /><br />Bramble knelt opposite her, grasping the King's bandaged hand.<br /><br />"She's-she's right, Papa," Bramble stuttered. "We have...rules..."<br /><br />Clover fell to her knees and pressed her handkerchief to his chest. Blood soaked through. <br /><br />"Papa," she whispered.<br /><br />The girls knelt around the King, their skirts spead out like forlorn blossoms, swallowing , and whispering one word.<br /><br />"Papa."<br /><br />"Papa."<br /><br />"<i>Papa</i>. - Heather Dixon Wallwork



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