White-haired Zinnia led the way, scrambling over rocks and rubble to the child. We watched, knowing our world was already lost.
“This one,” Zinnia said. Red-haired Columbine held the bag. Blue Belle wrote the tag.
“Where to now?” Buttercup asked, aiming a wink at Daisy’s green hair.
Then Zinnia turned. “Revenants,” she said. “Back to our own time. And the little child will lead us.”
We could have told Buttercup and Daisy not to stay, but we didn’t. And as the others vanished in the colored glow of their stones, the rebel pair turned to flowers, incandescence in our gray.