Purple Pop's Arc

Chapter 13 of 16

With the squirrel route running again, Purple Pop turned to a bigger worry. Her shop blended in with every other sweet stall in town. She needed one treat that no one else could make — something that would pull people in by name. Deep in the woods, past a bend of pale flowers, she found the hive. It hung from a low branch, glowing faintly under the late sun. The bees that circled it were grape-striped, their wings catching light like stained glass. One landed on her wrist. She held still and watched it drink from a drop of nectar, then followed the swarm to a small pool of honey gathered in a hollow stone. She carried the honey home and worked through the night. By morning she had pulled the syrup into swirled pops, each one coated in a glaze that shimmered gold over soft lavender. She set up a small booth at the pavilion and arranged the pops in neat rows under a striped awning. The scent reached the street first. Customers came in waves, then in crowds. By midday she hung the wooden board across the front — Sold Out, painted bright. Her jar was full, her tray was empty, and people were already asking when she'd make more. Purple Pop had her signature at last, and a line of orders she had no idea how to fill.