Aster Alloway's Arc

Chapter 19 of 26

Aster pushed the cart over the rise. The map lay open on the lid. The balloons on her dress pointed her back the way she came. She felt strong for the first time in days. Then she stopped. She had a path home, but the pollen still could not leave the meadow. It hung in the singers' voices, glowing. A canister of dead spores would open no bloom. She needed a single voice that could wake the pollen when the singers were gone. She needed Cosmo. And Cosmo had stayed behind. She left the cart and walked back down to the poppy field. She found the person she was looking for near the tea house, bent over a folded cloth. Benny Stitch had made her the lavender dress. Benny said little and gave less. But she noticed everything. "I need Cosmo," Aster said. "The pollen won't open without a voice like his. The singers can't come home with me. When the pollen reaches my shop, it will be silent. Then it fades." Benny set down the cloth. "He won't leave the meadow." "I know." Aster's throat tightened. "He sang the flower open. I can't do that alone." Benny studied her with all six eyes. Then she rose and went inside the tea house. She came back with a bright yellow dress across her arms. Peacock feathers ran down the skirt. A small lemon charm hung at the collar. "Take this," Benny said. Aster stared at it. "A party dress won't sing." "No," Benny said. "But you will." She held it out. "I stitched sound into the seams. The feathers hold the last of the singers' song. Wear it near the canister. It hums when you hum. It carries your voice further than your voice can go." Aster took the dress. It was warm, faintly buzzing, like a held note. "You made this today?" "Last week," Benny said. "I guessed you'd come back for something." She almost smiled. "You always take the long way." Aster's four hands closed around the yellow satin. She understood. She did not need Cosmo to walk home with her. She needed his gift stitched into cloth she could carry. She could hum to the pollen herself, and the dress would make it enough. She changed behind the cart. When she hummed, the feathers shivered and the note swelled around her. She leaned close to the fridge. The chime met her voice. The pollen brightened under the glass. The singers still held it here in the meadow. But now she could take it. She lifted the canister from their care and sealed it in the humming fridge, her own low note wrapped around it. "Go before dark," Benny said. Aster gripped the cart. She had the pollen, the path, and a voice to keep it alive. The last stretch home was hers to walk.