In the small valley town of Everbell, spring didn’t arrive gradually. It arrived with a pop .
“Can I help?” Primrose asked.
Primrose walked back slowly, counting. She counted forty-seven crocuses, twelve daffodils, and one dandelion already brave enough to be yellow. She planted the acorn by the old oak in the town square.
“I’m the Keeper of the Thaw,” the woman said, not unkindly. “You’re early, little one. Most children don’t find this place until they’ve grown a bit.”
“Hello,” said a voice.
In the small valley town of Everbell, spring didn’t arrive gradually. It arrived with a pop .
“Can I help?” Primrose asked.
Primrose walked back slowly, counting. She counted forty-seven crocuses, twelve daffodils, and one dandelion already brave enough to be yellow. She planted the acorn by the old oak in the town square.
“I’m the Keeper of the Thaw,” the woman said, not unkindly. “You’re early, little one. Most children don’t find this place until they’ve grown a bit.”
“Hello,” said a voice.
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