A Clover and a Bee

It’s almost like highway hypnosis: Lark blinks, and becomes aware that she’s somewhere new. But instead of, say, finding herself inexplicably at home seemingly seconds after hanging up her apron at work, she finds herself in a dim tent, perched before a glowing orb. “What does it say to you?” Lark’s eyes widen. Across from her sits a woman, young and thin with a drawn face. Her clothes are brightly colored, but that doesn’t hide the rips and tears at the cuffs of her sleeves. “Umm…” Lark clears her throat. “Please, Demonina—is it an ill omen? I must know!” She shakes her head, an attempt to free herself from what must be a particularly strange dream. The woman inhales. “It is good, then? Perhaps about Milo?” Her eyes flutter, and she holds her hands up to her chest. Lark clears her throat and stares down at the orb in front of her. A crystal ball, she realizes. “Um, yes. It is. I see Milo—it’s hard to tell, but he seems to be…he’s kneeling. And he’s holding out...