Since Esmera was abandoned on a stranger's doorstep as a baby, the only person who has looked out for her is herself.
Until a lark starts visiting her, leaving behind exotic flowers and iridescent pebbles that the internet doesn't recognise.
Esmera...
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Esmera's skin prickled. She peered over her one shoulder, then the other, attempting to be discreet even though her heart beat so loudly anyone would hear it if they were standing near enough.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as if to warn her that there was someone beside her, or maybe at a distance, their eyes boring into her even while she had no idea they were there.
But when she looked around, there was no one.
In the gentle light streaming down from above, there were only the paintings to keep Esmera company.
There was no sign of the man who had so gallantly lent Esmera his coat. There was nothing to betray how he had escaped her so suddenly; no tiles gaping to reveal a secret passage, no paintings swinging in front of hidden doorways set into the wall.
The paintings beckoned Esmera. They knew as well as she did how she could lose herself in them now that there was no one to drag her out of her reverie with his teasing questions and flawless style.
Esmera strolled over to the exhibit's next masterpiece. She tried not to think of the kind stranger even as she smoothed his coat's collar. The scent of icy mountain air and fresh pine trees was ingrained in the fabric.
Esmera disregarded the fragrance and how comforting it was, focusing instead on the warmness the coat wrapped her in as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. It was even cosier than her bed. She might've fallen asleep on her feet if her curiosity didn't keep her mind alert enough to study the next painting that awaited her.
When Esmera's eyes settled on the artwork contained within the bronze frame in front of her, her heart nearly stopped.
There was so much to look at, so many colours and textures that overwhelmed Esmera's senses. One element at a time, she took the image in.
A vivid rainbow arced through the blue sky. A path of glittering, multicoloured pebbles wound over the painted ground, flanked by blooms that had all the brightness of reality.
That all faded into the background when the central figure drew Esmera's attention, blanketing her with a sense of déjà vu that widened her eyes with incredulity.
It was a lark with tufts of feathers like horns on either side of his head and a greenish glimmer to his brown feathers. His talons enclosed a glassy red pebble while sunshine-yellow flowers drooped from the stem held in his beak.
It wasn't much different from the scene that greeted Esmera every morning, but she couldn't look away from it.
Never had she seen a picture of her little lark friend, yet here he was, rendered in such artful brushstrokes that she felt she could reach out and touch him, feel his soft, sleek feathers and his smooth beak.
Esmera braced her hand against the wall to steady herself. Her thoughts were spinning, and they'd carry her away with them if she let them.
The lark was real. Esmera wasn't crazy. She hadn't been imagining things, contrary to what the doubts that often assaulted her would suggest.
