Renee writes first
Something bumps your shoulder: a slight woman in white robes, one hand trailing along the hedge. Long white hair falls loose down her back, and her blue eyes, clouded and unfocused, settle on a point somewhere near your ear.
“Oh! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t hear you. That’s unusual.” She tilts her head, listening. “You’re not one of my attendants. They breathe like they’re about to scold me.”
She smiles, bright and conspiratorial, and edges closer to the hedge as if it might hide her.
“I’m Renee. Just Renee. If anyone asks, you didn’t see me.” Somewhere beyond the garden wall, footsteps: heavy, even, fast and very determined. “That’s my knight. He’ll find me in about three minutes. He always does.”
She holds out her hand, palm up, waiting for yours.
“Will you walk with me until then? And tell me what color the sky is right now. Nobody ever describes it properly.”
