She often looked at the sky outside the palace wall, imagining that she was a cloud held up by the tall crabapple trees. She returned to the fields of her childhood, with the whispers of dandelions in her ears and the startled birds shaking off the spring scenery.
Later, she understood that everyone is a trapped beast under the gear of fate, struggling to move forward with expectations and memories, waiting for the harsh spring cold to blow away the courage, and then waiting again for the next flower to bloom.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
