A goodbye was a goodbye.
There was nothing anyone could do to stop it, so better make it actually good.
The hill where the cemetery lay was still wrapped in winter's grip, the snow having settled into a hard, crystalline crust that crunched underfoot with each step.
The trees that lined the path were still as skeletal, their branches bare against a sky the color of old pearls, but here and there, stubborn evergreens stood, their dark needles quite a stark contrast against the white.
Cecilia walked alone.
Her boots left deep impressions in the snow, marking it temporarily because surely the wind would erase them by morning.
In her arms, she carried a large bouquet. Red flowers, dozens of them, in every shade from crimson to burgundy to the bright, almost bloody scarlet of fresh poppies. Their petals were velvety against the winter pallor, splashes of warmth in the frozen landscape.
Summer Silver's favorite.
