AIKO
"A little to the left," I directed as Petal and Thistle struggled with a blanket that weighed more than both of them combined. "No, my left, not your left!"
"There are too many lefts!" Petal complained, her pink glow flaring with exertion. "Just say 'toward the big sparkly rock' like a normal person!"
"Bold of you to use 'normal' in a place where the trees sing lullabies," I muttered, reaching over to straighten the moonlight-woven blanket myself. It rippled under my fingers like liquid silver, settling comfortably on the grassy bank of the rainbow stream.
Stepping back, I surveyed my work. The picnic looked magical—literally, not figuratively. Crystal plates that fractured light into tiny rainbows. Moon-berry tarts that pulsed with inner light. Star-fruit that occasionally sighe
