Chapter 52: The First Bloom
The world, once a monochrome study in white and grey, erupted. It began with the daffodils, a brazen yellow shout against the mud, then the shy violets, and finally the apple tree behind the cottage, which exploded in a cloud of pink-white blossoms so fragrant it sweetened the very air they breathed. Spring was not a season here; it was a revolution, and the cottage was its cheerful, chaotic headquarters.
With the thaw came a new mobility. Aurora, now four months old, had conquered the army-crawl a determined, lurching propulsion that allowed her to launch assaults on anything left on the floor. A dropped spoon was a treasure. A stray block was a conquest. Lyra's carefully arranged every stones were a strategic hazard that had to be urgently, repeatedly re-fortified.
