Pitch rushed forward and wrapped Dreadlilocks in a crushing hug. “Oh, my darling little angel…!” she cried. “I never thought I would see you again! How have you been??”

“I…I’m fine,” Dreadlilocks answered, clearly flustered.

“Where did you come from?? Have you been walking; are you tired? Here, come and sit down, take my cape…you shouldn’t be wearing such light clothing out here; you’ll catch a cold…!”

“I’m fine, Miss Pitch; really…” Dreadli smiled. “I guess this is how you really are…in your heart.”

“I’m…not sure what you mean…”

“It’s okay. You’ll understand later…can I help you look for flowers?”

“Of course, sweet darling.”

The two traversed the meadow, talking and picking wildflowers. Dreadli taught Pitch how to weave the stems into chains, and listened attentively as she recounted a well of newfound memories.

“…When we parted ways before…I know I didn’t say much of anything to you,” Pitch said. “But you have no idea how guilty I felt…I joined you and Zellandine to protect you. And you ended up sacrificing yourself for all of us…”

“It wasn’t really a…sacrifice,” said Dreadli. “I mean, I’m still alive…”

“But based on that harrowing story you told, you could easily have died! And now you’re saddled with all these…cosmic powers…”

“…I guess…”

“You’re just a little girl…children shouldn’t have to worry about such things. And I just kept thinking…what was the point of me being there, if this is how things ended up…”

Dreadli frowned. “Please…don’t say that, Miss Pitch,” she said, wrapping her flower chain around her shoulders. “I don’t want you to feel bad…being an author is hard sometimes, but I’m getting used to it. Mr. Jack is helping me…I think everything’s going to be alright, in the end.”

Pitch accepted the flowers. “Are you sure…?”

“Nothing is certain…but I’m going to try not to worry.”

Pitch smiled, and kissed the little girl on her forehead. “…If I ever had a daughter, I would want her to be just as brave and wonderful as you,” she said.

“Thank you…but you’re starting to make me embarrassed now…”

Dreadli turned to look at some cornflowers. Pitch watched her…then furrowed her brows. “…Wait,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be…older?”

“Older?”

“Well, I got here seven years ago…which means it’s been about eight years since we last saw each other. And since you were eleven years old before, you should be all grown up by now…don’t authors age at all…?”

“I…actually, maybe they don’t. Mr. Jack is thousands and thousands of years old, and he just looks like an ordinary man...but I don’t understand. It hasn’t been eight years; it’s only been—” Dreadli stopped short, and covered her mouth.

“…What?” Pitch asked. “How long has it been…?”

Dreadlilocks looked at Pitch with uncertainty in her eyes, then turned away. She began nervously braiding the cornflowers in her hands.

Pitch stepped forward, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter, my angel…?” she asked.

Dreadli stopped braiding. “…I guess I might as well say it,” she said. “To be honest, there’s some things I’ve been worried about since I got here…maybe if I tell you, you’ll just wake up, and then it’ll be fine.”

“‘Wake up’??”

“You’re…dreaming, you know.” Dreadlilocks looked into her eyes. “You’ve been dreaming this whole time.”