When Pil tried to remember her years as a toddler there weren’t many memories to grasp onto…except for one.

It was small and seemingly insignificant. A memory laced with laughter and smiles, the occasional huff of a horse, the incessant creaking of rolling carriage wheels, the soothing sound of her father’s warm voice, the comforting touch of her mother’s soft hands, and a bright yet distant light.

This dappled light seeped through the trees that rushed overhead like promises from a fairy; a glowing warmth that kissed Pil’s small round face and made her believe anything was possible.

This memory seemed insignificant but for Pil, now seventeen years old, it was a treasure to hold onto for the rest of her life.