Juniper & Thorn

by Ava Reid

You should know, of course, that there are only two kinds of mothers in stories, and if you are a mother, you are either wicked or you are dead.

Magic was always like that: it had ugly undersides. Wanting anything was a trap.

But there’s hardly anything in life worth doing that doesn’t make somebody angry.

My eldest sister was right; I would smile blithely if someone tried to saw off my leg. But no one had ever told me that I was allowed to scream.