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Where she stepped, a circle of flowers grew, filling the outline of her footsteps. Sometimes, she walked backwards to watch the green tendrils unfurl, their tips blossoming into pale blue, yellow, or red.
"Stop that," Nautte said crossly. "Don't waste your energy on such trifles."
Gwaering paused in mid-stride, her head tilted to one side.
"It costs me nothing to think of flowers," she replied. And she stepped carefully again, defiantly creating one more circle.
"Your aunt foretold a great future for you," said her mother severely. "But all I foresee is a good whipping!"
With a laugh, Gwaering danced toward her mother and kissed her repentantly. Then she caught sight of Ulthorn peering through the window, and forgot all else.
"May I play with Ulthorn?"
"Go, child."
Gwaering was gone almost before the words left her mother's lips. With a sigh, Nautte added softly, "Play while you still can."