The day was not appropriate to the occasion, and it made Mary furious. The sun was shining brightly, the birds singing summer's dying glory in defiance of the changing season. She thought the world should be mourning the loss of the woman known to Rhy'Din as Lucy Kitty. Why couldn't it at least be raining" But then again, Lucy never did like getting wet.

In the end her name was Lucy Valentine in honor of her beloved owner Faye. This was what was engraved upon the marker. It was a pretty pink polished quartz boulder. Its shape was a perfect sphere, like the balls that Lucy had loved to play with in life.

Mary and Faye had talked briefly about inviting people, and agreed that it should be a private event. The crystal casket had been made at great expense. Enclosed inside was a wicker basket lined in velvet, a woman-sized cat bed. Lucy was curled up inside, looking peacefully asleep in one final catnap.

After all the argument over details Faye and Mary buried the woman that Faye had loved. And perhaps Mary as well....but Mary certainly would not dream of admitting to it. Though Faye probably suspected there was more to it, Mary was only officially involved because Lucy had worked for her Corporation.

But it was hard to say what Mary felt these days. She was the person who had wronged the kitty in the worst way....Mary certainly hadn't meant to care about Lucy, but it seemed impossible to know Lucy and not love her. Her art, music, and words touched even the coldest of hearts. Mary's was no exception.

Perhaps Mary would have felt better to just break down and have some tearful confession....But it wouldn't make Faye feel any better. Admitting to her crimes now would be more selfish than anything. So she maintained a silent, strong presence.

When all was said and done Faye and Mary were left standing together beside the fresh grave. Complete silence aside from those obnoxiously chattering birds. Even the warmth of the sun seemed to be intruding upon their grief. She was using up some of the last of her magical reserves to attend this daylight event, while her fiancee Anne had only been able to send a bouquet.

It weighed on her heart that she had been unable to locate the eternally blooming rose Lucy had once told Faye about....It would have been perfect to plant as a memorial. Mary had never wanted to fail Lucy again and it wasn't till Faye finally insisted that they had the funeral without it.

Mary's sad brown eyes eventually broke from the marker to look to Faye. When she spoke she tried to make the tone gentle but it came out a little strained anyway. "If you would like to say a few words" You knew her best."

Rose had been wandering through the cemetery like a lost ghost, when she heard the sound of voices. Drifting closer she listened to what the two women were saying over the body of the third.

The story of the rose seemed very appropriate. And somehow attractive. She longed to be at peace, and what better way than to mark the grave of someone who had been so dearly loved?

She waited until everyone had gone, then stepped over to the grave marker. With a thought she transformed herself into a living, ever-blooming rose bush. For all time the bush would flourish with perfect red roses, which would open from buds every time someone visited the grave with good intentions. There Rose would stay, a beautiful mystery to brighten the hearts of those who, like her, wandered the graveyard seeking that which they had lost.