Easter Bunny's Arc

Chapter 12 of 15

Easter Bunny woke the next morning to find Easter Flowerette standing at the altar's edge. The small flower swayed in the breeze, petals bright against the stone. She didn't speak at first, just looked at each tribute in turn—the feather, the wreath, the sapling, the moss, the carved stone, the flower circle, the basin, the platform. "Why wasn't I chosen?" Easter Flowerette asked. Her voice was steady, not angry. "I've been here three days. I set up a tent outside the clearing. I saw the fence you built around Easter Corner with the eight names carved into the warning sign. Mine isn't there." Easter Bunny felt his chest tighten. He'd known this moment would come, but knowing didn't make it easier. "I can't honor everyone," he said. "Eight is all the space can hold." "That's not an answer," Easter Flowerette said. "You watched me grow from a seed in frozen ground. You saw me bloom when nothing else would. If that's not worthy, then what is?" Easter Bunny looked at the fence he'd built to mark the boundary. The sign hung there with eight names—a reminder to himself of what he'd chosen and what he'd left behind. He'd carved it to make the weight visible, to stop himself from pretending the choice was easy. "Worthiness isn't the line," he said. "I could have chosen fifty heroes. A hundred. Your bloom mattered. But ceremony only works when it's bounded." Easter Flowerette was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded once and turned to leave. "I understand," she said. "But understanding doesn't make it hurt less." She walked past the fence without looking back. Easter Bunny stood alone at the altar, staring at the warning sign. He'd built Easter Corner to honor goodness, but every choice to include was also a choice to exclude. The fence wasn't just a boundary. It was a scar. And he would carry it as long as Easter Corner stood.