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A Tale Of Realities
Fyn.
Fyn clenched his basket full of herbs tight against his chest.
He blinked, the sky right in front of him. The cool grass brushed his cheeks while the soil was warm against his back. Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground, a tiny bit groggy. How had he not noticed that he had fallen down? Shakily, he stood up, brushing dirt from his knees and elbows.
Like a mantra, he kept repeating the nursery rhyme, One for sorrow.
Crouching down, he picked up the herbs that had fallen from his basket when he had fallen down. Strangely, he couldn't remember how he fell. There didn't seem to be rocks blocking his path or could have caused him to trip. Neither were there strong winds that could have made him unsteady. It was truly strange, yet some part of his brain was telling him that everything was completely normal.
"That's all of it," He muttered to himself as he chucked the very last herb into his basket. The herb looked funn
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