SHATTERED TIES 6.1

Darent, Lorent's son, had not inherited his fascination with the word. Throughout the journey, he said little more than was necessary. He rarely looked him in the eye and only answered questions with yes or no. The only one to whom he showed a different attitude was Fleas. He looked at him out of the corner of his eye with some disgust. But as the days went by, he had grown closer to him. It must have been because he liked watching him draw.

Fleas felt invaded by the scent of the meadow flowers. He sneezed constantly and his eyes watered. The small blue and purple flowers were beautiful, they looked like little bells that the fairies used to call their own. And the butterflies, happy in spite of the winter, flew away as the wagon passed, like dry leaves that filled the air and turned it orange. Fleas would have liked to draw them, but he could not do them justice with his charcoal.