Rowan lost track of the days after Wren left, but at least a week passed before he accepted the fact that he was alone once more. He tried over and over to lose himself in the day to day magic of his garden, but every time he finished a song he would look around to be reminded that he now only sung for himself. He'd grown too fond of sharing his voice with someone else who appreciated it.
It hurt that Wren would leave without saying goodbye, and he wondered if the strange connection that tugged at his heart was one-sided. It certainly didn't feel that way, but feelings like this were completely foreign to him. He was probably mistaken.
For the first time that he could recall, the garden felt empty, even though he'd newly dedicated himself to filling every empty patch of grass with flowers. By the end of the week, he could barely walk without stepping on a new bloom or running into one of the butterflies or bees that flitted from blossom to blossom.
