The meadow was alive with color. Seraphine twirled in her daisy crown, her laughter carrying across the grass. She bent down to gather more flowers when a sudden crash broke the quiet — a boy had tumbled straight into the patch she was picking from.
"Ow…" he muttered, sitting up with grass in his hair.
Seraphine blinked at him, startled, then giggled. "You fell right into my daisies."
The boy scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt from his tunic. "I was trying to… um… chase a butterfly." He pointed vaguely at the air, though the butterfly was long gone.
"You're not very good at chasing," she said, tilting her head.
He flushed. "I'm better at… other things." He pulled out a wooden sword, holding it proudly. "I'm training to be a knight."
Seraphine's eyes sparkled. "Knights don't usually trip over flowers."
He groaned, covering his face. "I'm still practicing."
Her parents watched from the cottage window, amused. Her mother whispered, "He looks like trouble." Her father chuckled. "Or like someone who'll follow her anywhere, even if his feet betray him."
The boy tried again to stand tall, sword in hand. "I'll protect you," he declared, though his voice cracked halfway through.
Seraphine grinned and placed a daisy crown on his head. "Then you're my knight. But mine wear flowers."
He tugged at the crown, embarrassed. "Knights don't wear crowns."
"Mine do," she said firmly, her tone playful but certain.
He sighed, then laughed with her. And when he tripped again, landing flat in the grass, Seraphine laughed harder — not cruelly, but with warmth that made him laugh too.
That afternoon, they chased fireflies together, daring each other to step closer to the edge of the forest. When the boy grew nervous, Seraphine reached for his hand.
"Don't worry," she said softly. "If the shadows come, we'll face them together."
The boy glanced at her, cheeks pink, and nodded. "Together."