<div dir="ltr"><div>Part 3 of Blossom</div><div> </div><div>----</div><div> </div><div> March 1, 717 CR As a farmer, Lori and her family always woke up well before dawn. But tonight, Lori slept lightly, and woke up well before twilight. While the rest of her family slept soundly, she slipped on her gown and hood and crept into the village square. If she couldn't arrive early by day, then by gum she would arrive early by night. The town square's torches had long been put out; the moon had set hours ago. Apart from the swallows who were starting to wake up, all was quiet. Only the dim stars and smoldering coals were there to light the sole person remaining in the town square. She was one of the fiddlers; Lori recognized her as the wife of the barrelmaker. She must have been drinking again. She slouched on the stage, leaning against the tables and trestles, cradling her fiddle in her lap, her hand clutching her upright bow like a switch. Her head bobbed rhythmically and she murmured wordlessly to herself, half-asleep or half-drunk. Lori snuck towards the stage, her soft slippers gentle upon the grass. The blossom's tables stood on three long beams, elevated two feet off the ground, each about three feet wide and thirty feet across, long enough to seat ten grown men, if they ever needed that many. The tables had been stripped of their decorations, taken away with the dishes at the very end of the feast, just hours ago. Ideally, the extra flowers were just thrown away. No man wanted to boast of not giving away all of his favors. In practice, whoever was up late enough to be cleaning up, didn't feel the need to grab every little prickly flower on display. A bunch of them would always drop to the floor. Thus, it had become a tradition for young girls, including those too young to court a blossom, to ransack the stage in the early morning after for a few flowers of their own. Lori had always woken up too late to join in the fun. But not tonight. Reaching Marcus's table, a good five feet from the fiddler, she tested the platform for any squeaks, and then lifted her foot onto it. The fiddler jerked her head up and swung her bow towards Lori, who ducked in a panic. The fiddler's bow was well beyond reach, though, and struck only air. The fiddler showed no sign of hearing Lori's breath or pounding heart, but Lori stayed down, foot planted against the platform. Several heartbeats later, the fiddler had fallen back into her stupor. Lori's foot was cramping up. Her heart was still beating. Forcing down a slow breath, she gripped the table and pulled herself up. Empty. Not one petal, nor a single breadcrumb, was on that table, no matter where she touched. She looked towards the fiddler, hoping she still slept. Just opposite the fiddler, three tables down, Lori could see a couple crocuses lying on the table. She tried to remember whose table it was. It had been one of the local boys, she knew, who was a year or two older than Lori, and hung with their own circle of friends. There were only about thirty children in the village, but aside from her friends' brothers and sisters, Lori never bothered learning their names. It wasn't as if she planned to stay. Whoever it was, wasn't going to miss those few. Lori glanced the other way, hearing something that sounded like a stone being kicked. There was a small flickering light coming down the road. A watchman? No, Lori could hear two voices, both women. They weren't talking loudly, but certainly not discreetly. Lori quickly hopped off the stage, crouching as she landed and running low to the ground, giving a wide berth to the fiddler, who began to stir at the new commotion around her. "Who's there?" she said groggily. The two girls kept walking down the path, oblivious to their destination. The grass was far too short to hide Lori, so she went for the only nearby cover: the back of the stage. She ducked behind the stage and peeked behind. The fiddler slowly lowered her bow upon her fiddle, as one of the girls chuckled at some unheard joke. There was a slight twang as the bow landed. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed Lori from behind, one of them covering her startled gasp at the same time that the violin screeched. "Shh, shh! It's me!" Ophelia hissed moments before Lori punched her with her elbow. "Ophelia?!" Lori whispered as the girl landed on the grass, wind knocked out of her. "What are you—?" "Who's there?" the fiddler called out much louder, loud enough that even the two girls stopped in their tracks. "Shit! Hide!" Lori pushed Ophelia under the platform and followed quickly behind, mentally apologizing to her mother for her swear. The fiddler spun around, hearing people behind her and seeing two people in front of her. "Have you come to take me away?! It's my party too, you hear? I'll stay as long as I like!" Each of the beams had a long wooden leg in the middle for stability. Although the back was open, the front was covered by a trellis, and so Lori felt relatively safe backing up against it, especially as it offered a view to what was out front. The fiddler was stomping towards the two other girls, who had put out their light too late to escape notice. They shrieked as the fiddler flicked her bow through the air in a whistling noise. The commotion was enough to cover their conversation. "What are you doing out here this late?" Lori whispered. "I figured you'd be out here, looking for flowers. You forgot to take some at the feast." Ophelia said very calmly, not the least bit anxious. "I've got something for you." "You do? You saved some flowers for me?" If Lori had known, she certainly wouldn't have pushed or shoved her. "No, I already knew you could get your own. Here," Ophelia palmed her something smooth, flat, hard, and rock-like. "What is it?" Lori asked, wondering if it was perhaps something made of clay, hand-sculpted by Ophelia. "It's a rock," she replied. Outside, the fiddler had almost reached the two girls when they darted in two directions. One of the girls dropped her lantern as she fled across the green. The other one darted behind the stage, and paused as if about to duck under the platform herself, but decided against it and ran on. "A rock?" Lori asked. "It's a special rock," Ophelia whispered. "Look at it when it's light out. And I mean, really look at it. You'll know it when you see it." "Ophelia, I don't have—" There was a loud thump as something crawled under the platform, but on the other side of the table legs. It came closer and rested just inches away from Lori. She tried to calm her breath, but whoever it was, heard her loud and clear. "Shh, quiet. Sorry. I didn't know anyone was down here," the boy said softly. "I'm just here to watch over my sisters." There was something oddly familiar about his voice, though Lori couldn't place where. Lori tried to get a good look at him, but she could only see a dark silhouette, enough to tell that he was not an animal morph. "You mean those two girls out there?" He nodded. "Gilly is older, but she's a child morph. Lana is the next oldest, she became a woman last year." Outside, the fiddler vacillated between screaming that she was not leaving, and plucking her fiddle strings ominously, perhaps trying to scare them away. The girls seemed to be more amused than anything; one of them ran over the platform, feet clattering against the boards over Lori's head before she scampered down the back. "I'm Ewan," he continued. "I don't know if you remember me from last night. I was the one you tumbled with." Lori blinked, not that he could have seen it. "That was you?" Ewan nodded. "This is the first blossom I've ever been to. We don't have them up in Ticehurst. My sisters heard of it and thought they could pick a good match down here. They're still new to the idea of wooing boys." "How easy it is to ignore the curse," Ophelia cut in quietly, "until it inconveniences you." Ewan shifted his gaze to her. "I don't think I've met you before." Ophelia didn't say anything, so Lori stepped in. "She's Ophelia. I'm Lori. And no, she's not my mother or sister. She's my friend. Her brother Marcus was in the blossom." Ewan leaned in closer, hoping in vain for a better look. "Are you the one who wore that… distinctive dress?" "Yes, yes, she was, and you don't need to rub it in. She's passionate about sewing, and if she makes a few mistakes here and there, at least she learns from it." Lori clamped her mouth shut as she found herself rising in volume. Not that it mattered by this point. In the distance, a dog was barking, and an actual watchman was hurrying down to see what the noise was about. While the fiddler was trampling about, the girls were staying perfectly silent or out of range, wherever they were. "Actually," Ewan said, "I wanted to compliment her. I thought the dress looked really nice on you. Not like, you know, some frumpy child morph. You looked so regal. The spitting image of a child mage." Lori thought he was being sarcastic, and was about to rejoin him when she heard a sound she never heard before. "Um… uh… I, um… Uh, thank you." Ophelia stammered. Lori blinked. Was Ophelia, of all things, embarrassed? "I'd like to see it again, sometime," Ewan said. "When it's brighter out." The watchman had finally caught up to the fiddler. His guard dog had stopped barking and now sniffed her curiously. The woman was not to be deterred. "It was robbers, night man! They tried to rob me! They're somewhere out here, waiting to jump me!" "No harm done, though, it looks like. Tell ya what, while I go look for the robbers, you get yerself someplace safe till morning?" "Safe? As if Twone were unsafe?" "Ya never know what might come out at night." "It's only because of those Keepers who come out to see the circus. Robbers at night! You think one of our own would do such a thing?" "I'm just here to protect ya. If there are robbers, they'll be armed with something a bit sharper than a fiddlestick." "You think they would? On a woman like me? Ha! They wouldn't be so vicious if I had a real weapon." But she was finally stumbling away, helped along by the poor watchman. "I used to hold a sword, you know, like those gender-men. I could have performed tricks like any of them..." Her words were drowned out by a bird singing its morning song. Lori could see the eastern mountaintops faintly glowing with red sunrise. Ewan scoffed. "You really think that old lady could juggle a sword the way they did last night?" "I didn't see the juggling," Lori said. "I missed the whole show. I had some family business to take care of." "Ah," Ewan said, a bit sadly. "I've been to blossoms for years, though. They always perform the same stunts, just different routines. Marcus did the sword-catching one. Amos, I'm sure, did the one where they stand on the horse. It is a circus, to be honest." "Yeah, well…" Ewan paused. "But they get a whole feast on top of it. They get to make speeches, and then get fawned over by girls. Most of them will be married in a couple months. Because a man is useful. No more curse to worry about. What will happen to those of us boys who become women? Why don't we get a celebration of our own?" The bitterness was plain in his voice. Lori hesitated; she hated discussing the curse, and so had never put much thought into it. "It's not that men are more useful," Lori said carefully. "But it's a big responsibility to be a man, especially if you used to be a girl. They need to know that the village supports them, being men and all." Ewan was quiet for a moment. "My brother Marlin used to be cool. Handsome, you know, and strong? We used to watch him wrestle pigs, fully grown barrows in the mud. He could buck our hay in a single day, sweating but no panting. When the heavy storm rolled in and blew the cottage roof away, young Marlin thatched the whole roof by himself. Now, he's a she. Now SHE sits all day and weaves clothes. SHE cooks and cleans while the rest of us shovel dirt, stack hay, sweat in the sun. When he was Marlin, he could do everything your Marcus did last night. Fifteen years! What celebration does she get for it? Where was HER blossom festival?" Lori opened her mouth, but no words came out. "They're not celebrations," Ophelia suddenly spoke up. "What, then?" Ewan asked. "Your brother Marlin is gone. My sister Mallory is gone. They're still alive, with the same memories, but they're different people now. The blossoms aren't about celebrating the new. They're about saying goodbye to the old." This was wrong. It was all wrong. Marcus was still Mallory! They were the same person, just a different name and face! Lori wanted to say something, but was stopped by Ewan's smile. He seemed satisfied by Ophelia's answer. "When I grow up, I want to be a child morph," he said. "I'm tired of change. I'm tired of losing the things I grew up with." "Be careful," Ophelia said. "If you want something bad enough, you just might lose it." There were suddenly two loud thumps on the platform above them. All three of them cowered to the ground, holding their breaths. Whoever was on stage crept forward and hissed, "Gilly!" From the other side of the stage, another girl landed. "Find any?" "Just some hellebores and primroses." "Better than nothing," Gilly said. "Not good enough!" the other girl said, nails rattling the wood. "Find me some big ones!" Ewan edged up against the frame and whispered, "Do me a favor. Don't let them see me. If they look under here..." "I'll distract them," Ophelia said firmly. "Lori, talk to Benjamin tonight. Don't lose that stone." "Wha--?" But Ophelia scraped against the ground and thumped the platform loudly, causing the two girls above to jump. She peeked over the edge and looked straight towards them, holding her empty arms close to her chest. "I saw 'em first! Finders keepers!" And off she ran. "Hey! Get back here!" The larger of the two girls ran after Ophelia. Lori now grasped what Ophela's plan was. Ophelia was very nimble and light on her feet, but the goal here was not to outrun the young woman, but to keep up the appearance of cradling a bunch of thick roses in her dress, and that holding them was slowing her down. But there was only one girl chasing the other. Gilly was still on the platform. Lori glanced over at Ewan, wondering if he had a suggestion. She caught his glance, and she knew exactly what it meant. She was going to have to distract Gilly for him. Lori sighed, and pulled herself out. "Hi there," she gave the girl a smile. "Sorry. We didn't actually find anything. Ophelia just wanted to join the fun." Gilly gave her a look, a cross between amusement and suspicion. Her eyes immediately went to Lori's tightened hand, and she relaxed when she saw no flowers there. "I suppose they must have cleaned it up good this year." "It was a good turn-out," Lori agreed. "Truth be told, I wouldn't mind some of those hellebores your sister didn't want." "Not if I get them first," Gilly turned and began grabbing. Lori eagerly picked a handful of flowers up. A shadow left the platform and hurried silently across the field. Twilight was coming rapidly, and more than once did Lori see a flicker of candlelight in some of the cottages. Twone was waking up. "How did you know she was my sister?" Gilly suddenly asked. "Well, she looks 20, you look 6. I doubt a mom is bringing her daughter to a blossom booth for flower-picking." "Heh, right," she nodded. "You're that shepherd girl who hangs out with Ophelia, aren't you?" "You know us?" "I met your parents at the blossom. I have a brother who wouldn't stop talking about Marcus's sister." Of course. Child morphs loved to talk. "She's still young," Lori said, sensing what was coming next. "She'll grow out of it." "Oh, I couldn't care less how she talks or dresses," Gilly said. "She doesn't care either, I don't think. It's true what they say, isn't it, that she's trying to learn magic? That she plans to quit being a farmer?" "That's none of your business, you know," Lori said, keeping her tone low. "What is it about her, do you think, that makes her so defiant?" Lori sighed. "What is it about you child morphs that makes you so high and mighty?" Gilly chortled. "Probably because we have no other way to act our age." She brushed back her hair. There was something unnerving about a child morph who wasn't wearing their hood, almost scandalous. The two of them watched as Gilly's sister finally slowed to a walk, out of breath. Ophelia left her behind, but slowed down, glancing briefly at Lori as she walked home. "I'm Gilly, anyways, and that's Lana over there," Gilly continued. "We came down here with our four younger brothers and two younger sisters, while Mum and Dad handle some private business. Gender morphs, you see." Lori blinked. "Oh? Both of them?" Gilly nodded, noticing the warmth on Lori's face. "We're expected back by midday. They'll have the whole night to enjoy themselves. As gender morphs should." Lori nodded and turned back to the floor. She saw a flower and scooped it into her hand. "Do you ever think about what sort of things two gender morphs can do with each other?" "No, and I don't plan to." "You're not even curious?" "It's private business, like you said." "You sound embarrassed." Gilly smiled. "Did you want to look for flowers, or talk about sex?" Lori's face was burning by this point. "There is no shame in wanting to talk about it," Gilly said. "You know how the curse is attracted to a person's desires. If you don't let yourself even think about it, how do you expect to be gender-morphed?" "I think that's all the winter roses I'll find," Lori said abruptly as she got up. "I need to be getting home now, busy day ahead of me." "I'm just trying to look out for you, you know! There's no shame in wanting to be cursed!" she called out as Lori left. Already another girl was crossing the town square, converging on the stage. There was barely enough light to see the path ahead, but at least the sky was lighting up. Color was returning to the world once more. Now everyone could see how bright red Lori was. There was no way Gilly could have known what she wanted. What was so bad, anyway, about being an animal morph, or a child morph? Not that she wanted to be either… but still, the sheer audacity to assume what she wanted! It was bad enough trying to justify herself to her friends, or to her parents. But how could she explain the unspoken contradictions about the curse to a stranger? Think about the curse, and either it won't happen or it will. Which was she to believe? At least she got a few prizes out of tonight. In one hand, she held three fine hellebores. Not as good as crocuses, but lovely in their own regard. In her other hand, she held a rock, which apart from being smooth and having a soft dip in one end, was much the same as any other rock. Lori was tempted to just toss the rock aside. If it had come from anyone but Ophelia, she might have. But… This rock meant something to Ophelia. And that meant a lot more to Lori than whatever attitude Gilly had. Lori tucked it inside her belt pouch. If this was a riddle, she'd at least try and figure it out. </div></div>