in a wedding dress that was in absolute tatters and shreds — an improvement for the horrid thing — thumbelina stood in the middle of a field, covered in ice and snow. everything was lifeless. there was barely even a breeze in the sky. the sun shone brightly, beating down and already beginning to melt the ice. if it weren't for the circumstances, thumbelina would've found the stillness to be calming after the . . . commotion she had escaped. the way the snow sparkled under the sun, she would've found beauty in it.
but instead, she just felt defeated. " this cannot be it, " the beauty said aloud, looking around the empty field. " this cannot be the vale of the faeries. " the trees had no leaves, she could hardly tell where the ground began and ended from all the snow — and there wasn't a blossom in sight. " everything is dead. " no sooner then the words left her lips was thumbelina reminded why she was there. why she had almost — almost — let herself be forced into a marriage to someone she did not love. why she had ran and ran until she reached this field.
" cornelius is dead. " she said softly, choking out a sob and falling to her knees — entirely ignoring the chill that soaked through the fabric shreds that clung to her body. thumbelina couldn't be strong any longer, she didn't want to be. she needed to cry, to let out all the frustration and pain she felt.
