Flora Rosewood's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Flora Rosewood measured her hair against the chasm every morning, and every morning it fell short. She lived alone at the top of a tower, a grand palace of living vines, glowing crystals, and whimsical mushrooms. Her hair was pink and woven through with flowers, and it was her only way down. If she could grow it long enough, it would reach across the deep gorge to the forbidden kingdom below. Today the rope of hair dangled past the balcony rail and stopped halfway. The far cliff stayed out of reach. Flora pulled her hair back up and coiled it in her lap. She knew the reason it grew so slowly. Her meals came plain and thin—dry bread, weak broth, a little water. The palace fed her enough to live, but not enough to bloom. Her hair needed richness to stretch, and she had none. She searched the balcony gardens for something better. Among the mushrooms she found a seed pod, pink and shimmering, tucked under a crystal. She pressed it into the soil of her flower box and waited. By afternoon a beanstalk climbed from the box. Its leaves shone bright pink, and its pods glittered like glass. Flora broke one open. Inside sat a cluster of sweet beans, fat and fragrant. She ate them all. Her scalp prickled. She felt her hair stir and lengthen, inch by inch, the flowers in it opening wider. The rich food worked where the broth never had. Flora rushed to the rail and dropped her hair again. It fell farther than before. But it still did not reach the other side. She had eaten every bean, and the beanstalk held no more pods ready to pick. The plant had given her a burst of growth and then gone bare. She stood with her longer hair swaying over the gorge, closer than ever, and still stranded. Then the air began to sparkle. A pink shape rose from the mist below the tower. It was a pegasus, her coat soft rose, her wings shimmering with light. The creature beat those wings and hovered level with the balcony. She studied Flora with calm, dark eyes. "You keep reaching across," the pegasus said. "That gorge has swallowed longer ropes than yours." Flora gripped the rail. "My hair almost made it. One more stretch and I could climb down." "Hair breaks," the pegasus said. She folded her glittering wings and landed on the rail. "Wings don't." Flora looked at the sweet beans' empty pods, then at the strong pink wings close enough to touch. Her hair had carried her this far and no farther. She could keep feeding it and keep falling short, or she could trust something that already flew. Flora climbed onto the rail beside the pegasus. "Then carry me across." The pegasus knelt. Flora wound her long flowered hair around one arm and settled onto the warm back. Wings spread wide. They lifted off the balcony and turned toward the forbidden kingdom below.