The gardener walked into their lives bright and sharp. Her need was covered by a ready smile. She came from a house with walls that echoed loneliness. On the very first day, her eyes were drawn to the little flower in the corner of the garden. Its beauty was in its simplicity. The gardener’s jealousy was already born. She watched it every day. It moved to the breeze and reached for the sunshine. The flower did not complain about the dark, the wind or the cold. Its roots had strength unseen.
The little flower was called Amira. She was guarded by Farkas, the garden spirit. Farkas loved Amira most of all the garden residents. However, he was wounded. He had lived many lives and carried the damage inside himself. He, often, went away and they would not see him for long periods. Sometimes, Farkas would sit near Amira. He would then remember the things that he rarely let himself remember. He would rest there until the wind called him away again.
The gardener watched it all and her loathing grew darker. How can the little flower have such a hold over the garden spirit’s heart? she thought. One morning, before the rising light had given its blessing to the day, the gardener, sick with her own longing, left her bed and killed the little flower. Now, Farkas will learn to love me. He will come to look at me and feel alive. He will protect me instead of the pathetic, dead flower.
