Belle's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Belle kneels at the forest edge, pressing seeds into the soft earth along the trail. Her hair shed them last night while she slept, and now she plants them where runaways might see what grows. Each flower will point the way to safety. Each flower might also point the way to discovery. She ties ribbons to the low branches next. Magenta, then blue, then orange — bright against the gray bark. The pattern repeats every third tree, leading deeper into the woods. Anyone desperate enough to run will recognize a path when they see one. So will anyone hunting them. The pavilion waits at the clearing's edge, its gold dome catching morning light. Belle drapes more ribbons across its archways, then sets a water jug and blanket on the steps. A place to rest. A sign that says someone here understands fear and offers shelter anyway. She checks the trail one last time, imagining footsteps that might follow the flowers and ribbons home. Behind her, someone coughs in the sanctuary. The sound pulls her back from the edge of doubt. Three people sleep there now, safe because she built this place and kept building. She brushes dirt from her hands and walks toward that sound, leaving the ribbons to flutter in the wind.