Becky Jenkinson

“In the centre of the magical meadow, a singular flower grows. Its tall saffron-yellow stem supports leaves that bleed into a magnificent fiery red and, gods, the petals… Long thin triangles burst out like the sun itself in rich gradients of pink and coral. It’s the sunset, the sunrise, and all the light between. The fully bloomed afternoon sun. A golden, shimmering daylight, aflame with light and life and an intense brilliance that has me falling to my knees beside it.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“If you keep going, you’re going to pass out again,’ Willoh says. Not as a threat, just as a fact. ‘Although…’ He catches up to my side and leans forward. I throw him the smallest of glances. ‘Look at you, in your cute dress, with flowers in your hair. On second thought, by all means, keep going. When you faint, maybe you’ll fall into my arms.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower