myth for violet

Ivy lost his dreams. They were still as snow.

He woke cold. The woman was gone. One morning he found a fox sitting at his door.

A fox, he knew, was a sign. He snuck away from his work then to follow the fox and the conscript of his heart. He believed what the grass man had said, with the vanilla in his pocket, and the evening primrose left behind.

He decided to believe in his heart over the rules of the queen. Out he went once again into the great world. A part of him feared he was letting too much go, giving too much away to fate.

The woman in his dream spoke too often about a fox for him to ignore this visitor, though. Every step that he took towards the mountains. He thought to himself, “I will make a place for us. A place that transcends dreams, a place as hypnotic as the moon's dance. And sturdy as the earth. I will make a garden where we can live, for I know that I love you.”

And where he walked, violets sprung up, for the wanderer's garden is as simple and as vast as the world, though he did not know it yet.