It was spring.

The changing of the season meant recovery, once. Discovery, in all of its allure, with minute and major efforts alike.

Still, the pace of studies slowed. Ivy watching it all, amused, though her smile could barely reach her eyes.

She'd found herself alone with her thoughts, and the thoughts of others, more and more often. The rotting wood of the bench bowed under her, a vague, cautious comfort. Familiarity in a world that she understood less of, as her knowledge reached ever outward.

Out of them all, spring was her favourite.