One day, when Risa's wrinkles had grown so deep and her hair had fallen out and she'd lost several teeth to delicious apples, she knew her time had come. It hurt a little to smile now, her cheeks felt as wooden and stiff as her legs, but she made an effort that day as she wandered through the orchard. Melody's orchard. The bees came to tickle her weathered, green skin. They rested on her drooping ears and kissed her fingertips.

Sometimes she would sign, but her fingers weren't as responsive as they used to be. Her wrists ached. Her elbows popped; she was too slow. If Melody were around, their conversations would take ages, she'd say with a quiet laugh. When any of her great-grandchildren asked what was so funny, Risa would smile her gap-toothed smile and shake her head. "A story from a long time ago."

On that last day, it was sunny and gorgeous, the wind tasted of home cooking and the clouds floated voluminous and serene. Risa's eyes weren't what they once were, but she could see the beehive, the one on the peach tree, the one Melody had always said was her favorite. She needed a walking stick now too; she used the one Melody had left behind even though it was too tall for her. She wouldn't let her son or anyone cut it down to size; she hobbled along just fine with it.

"I miss you so much," she whispered. Her fingers twitched, aching to shape the letters, and it broke her heart that she couldn't. "I love you so much. Thank you for the wonderful life you gave me. All these years... without you, I carried on. Guess why?" She grinned and didn't bother wiping her cheeks as tears spilled. "For you. I kept you with me all the time and look. My grandchildren. My great-grandchildren. Look how old I am. I almost look like you!"

A shout came from behind her. "Granny!" There was the pitter-patter of little feet, and her youngest great-grandson, little Rinan, came half waddling, half running toward her. He was a tiny boy with a thick head of dark hair and he wore the white shirt of his school uniform. He smelled of breakfast, roasted mushrooms and honeyed bread.

Risa welcomed him with a painful hug, scooping him off the ground, putting her weight on the staff. She knew this was the last time she’d hold him. "Shouldn't you be off to school?"

Rinan was smaller than most goblins his age. His ears were smaller, less pointy, and that was cause of the dwarven and human blood running through his veins. Sometimes she wondered how her descendants would want to identify, but the world had blended, love had prevailed, and did it really matter who was what if everyone was living their lives and trying their best?

"No," he said, obviously lying. "What are you doing out here alone, Granny?"

"I'm talking to an old friend," she said. Her voice had gotten so raspy, so tired. But she raised her staff just a bit to point at the nearest honeycomb. Several bees swooped in for a landing, their wings buzzing gently as they brought sweet flowerdust home.

"Where is your friend, Granny? I want to see them. Do they like ice cream?" Rinan turned his head every which way, as though someone might be hiding behind the trees, and despite the ache in her hips from carrying the struggling boy, Risa laughed.

"No," she said. "Some friends, sometimes, they don't even have to be here. You miss them and love them so much, you feel like they're with you all the time."

He frowned. His green eyes glistened like gems, and she could see his little mind trying to make sense of what she'd said.

There was a lump in her throat. "Rinan, do you remember what we talked about a few days ago? What your mom and dad tried to explain?"

With a fervent nod, he summarized. "That sometimes people we care about go away, and we never see them again."

"It's called death," she said.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Yes," he whispered, looking at her weathered staff. "I don't like that word."

"It's an important word." Hobbling, she carried him over beneath the beehive and touched her staff to the dark park of the old peach tree. "It's the cycle of life. Sometimes things grow, and you are young right now with so much growing ahead of you my little sweetheart, but things also grow old. Like me. Things need to rest so that new things, like you, like the new flowers that give us fruit every spring, like the new bees that hatch from their eggs and fly around..."

He wasn't listening. He was playing with her ear. She sighed happily. The world was so peaceful now. She shut her eyes and inhaled the woodsy scent of the orchard. Sometimes she thought, it smelled like Melody, but she knew her old mind was playing tricks on her.

After Melody passed on, the world flourished. Risa remembered the day so carefully, every day she made an effort to remember so she could never forget when the bees kissed her cheeks for the first time and sipped on her tears, when they made promises with the buzz of their wings, when they filled the sky with warmth and color and music again, when the world sprouted anew with flowers and crops and life. She'd given the honey away for free after that; how could she put a price on Melody's sacrifice? And now the honey, so much redder and more vibrant than before, had the ability to heal. Not just illness and exhaustion, but cruelty as well. It healed selfishness. It melted hate.

No one needed to starve; no one needed for anything. Neighbors watched out for neighbors. Friends and family encouraged one another to strive. Sadness stopped weighing down the world with hopelessness, and when there were difficult times, when things grew heavy and cumbersome, love was abound. People helped one another.

The honey was so delicious that word spread far and wide, and many began making a pilgrimage to their little town, to Melody's quiet home, to ask for a cup. From royalty draped in golden fabrics to beggars with nothing but the rags on their backs, humans and elves and dwarves and centaurs, and even goblins. Everyone was welcome; everyone welcomed everyone else. Risa had changed the name of the honey by then. It was now called Melody's Gift, and it inspired change in everyone who drank. The wealthy gave away their hordes of gold, and the meek, the downtrodden, found new strength and capacity for growth. And Melody had inspired all of that.

"I'll be with you soon," whispered Risa. She kept picturing that very first day, how nervous she’d been, knocking on the door and waiting for hours and hours until Melody stumbled out and looked so surprised to see a goblin standing on her doorstep.

Rinan swiveled his head. "Where are you going, Granny? Can I come with you? I don’t want to go to school."

She smiled and hugged him as tightly as she could before setting him down. He blinked at her, his brows furrowed in confusion, and she told him to get his parents. To get his aunts and uncles and cousins. They needed to see her go; they needed to be there so the promise could live on.

He looked up at her, sucking on his thumb. "Why?"

Risa didn't bother wiping her eyes. Her vision blurred. "I have to go now," she said softly. She took a breath as Rinan rushed inside, nearly tripping. Soon, they'd all come out to see what was going on. The boy loved having an excuse to make a scene, and she could already hear him shouting inside the house that Granny wanted to see them all, that Granny was being weird.

Granny... she thought with a little laugh. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, and her throat hurt so much. Her staff clattered to the ground, and she held out her arms. Of course, Granny wanted to see them; Melody would have loved having such a big family, and now Risa was entrusting the home, their home, to that family. It had been shared and loved for many years, and she entrusted the honey to them as well. The bees. The orchard.

Risa’s family spilled out the back door, some of them carrying babies, some of their faces drenched in sweat, holding large wooden spoons. Aprons and backpacks and uniforms, all the things that made up life. They stood at the edge of the orchard just as Risa had stood once long ago, eyes wide and full of tears. She’d prepared them days earlier, and though they had begged her not to go, she’d assured them that she would always watch over them.

Risa spread her arms as wide as she could, her weary heart so full of love and want, that she thought it would burst. "Goodbye my children," she said, shutting her eyes as she felt a tug on her soul. “Thank you for loving me...”

Bit by bit, piece by piece, a familiar feeling, an ache from a long-forgotten dream, spread through her body, and her flesh sprouted countless wings, countless little fuzzy bodies that struggled against her gown. She didn't have a fever; she wasn't ill. She just knew. This was what was meant to happen all those years ago. Her bees have waited so long to be free.

Starting with her feet, the bees took to the air, and she began to disintegrate. Her gown dropped to the ground, and Risa inhaled one last time, before her insides finished changing, and whispered, “Melody.”