Jackandjill Lavynder Rain Page

He lost his footing on the petal-slick stone. He tumbled—not down the hill, but into the well. Jill lunged, caught his wrist. For a moment, she held him, his knuckles white in her grip. The lavender rain clung to their hair, their lashes, their lips.

Jack and Jill didn’t care for whispers. They cared for the pail. jackandjill lavynder rain

“Run!” Jill laughed, but the word was wrong. You couldn’t run through a rain that fell like feathers. The ground underfoot became a soft, shifting carpet of crushed flowers. He lost his footing on the petal-slick stone