Primrose Egghart's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

Primrose makes it three steps from the gazebo before the egg shifts in her basket. She stops, looks down, and watches it roll from one corner to the other. Not a wobble from her walking. A deliberate move, like it's testing the space. She takes another step. The egg rolls again, this time settling against the moss lining where her other eggs sit still and safe. By the time she reaches the stone marker with the paw print carved into it — the spot where the dog first nosed the egg toward her — the basket feels lighter. She looks down and counts. One egg short. The special egg is gone. Primrose doesn't panic. She sets the basket on the ground and kneels beside it, waiting. The egg moved twice, which means it chose to stay with her twice before leaving. That's more than any of the others ever did. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the locket, turning it over in her palm. The dog traded the egg for this. But the egg never agreed to be traded. Something glints in the grass near the marker. Primrose crawls forward and finds it — a crystal egg, clear as glass, catching the light in a spray of pastel colors. She picks it up carefully and holds it to the sun. Inside, she can see her own face reflected a hundred times in the facets. The egg didn't disappear. It changed. And now it's not something to catch or keep. It's something to see through. She tucks it into her basket and stands, understanding that the egg was never hers to hold. It was hers to let go.