Once upon a time, on the edge of a forest, there was a lonely child with only his older sister for company. So his sister made him a playmate — Daye, a girl woven from carefully selected flowers and words.

Rory is gloriously happy, until he learns that Daye is a seasonal creature. At the end of each season, she must be woven back together or fall gruesomely apart. And when, one autumn, his sister fails to return home from university in time, Rory has no choice but to watch his best friend slowly crumble.

Realizing he can no longer rely on his sister to keep Daye alive, Rory determines he must leave home to learn how to do it himself. Rory sinks deeper into research and experiments to end the cycle of bloom and decay. But as Rory grows older, his thoughts turn darker . . .

An entrancing, inventive and unsettling reimagining of the story of Blodeuwedd from Welsh mythology, Honeysuckle by Bar Fridman-Tell is a feminist Frankenstein with flowers; a deliciously dark, twisted, horror-tinged fairytale with rot at its heart . . .

Honeysuckle is due for release 2nd April from Tor Nightfire – you can pre-order your copy on Bookshop.org

In the beginning of Honeysuckle—a loose reimagining of the Welsh myth of Blodeuwedd from The Mabinogion—a lonely child named Rory strikes a deal with his sister: he’ll stop bothering her, and in return, she’ll make him someone to play with. The catch? The companion his sister creates—a girl made of flowers named Daye—is a seasonable creature, and must be woven back together at the end of each season or fall gruesomely apart. Rory learns this the hard way, when Daye begins to unravel as summer ends.

Chapter Four takes place just after that first time Daye falls apart and is woven back together by Rory’s sister. It’s the first chapter from Daye’s point of view, the shortest chapter in Honeysuckle, and, incidentally, the very last one I wrote. It’s also one of my favorites. – Bar Fridman-Tell

Chapter 4

Daye

They were racing through the forest. Rory was laughing, the sound flung to the air above them, high and sweet; her own laughter an inaudible chorus twining through it. All around them, light pooled in leaves and dripped into the last of the blackberry thickets, before splashing into the ground like spilled honey.

She could almost taste it.

It seemed impossible that summer had ever existed. That the end of summer had ever happened. That there was ever anything but this: the air in her lungs, loam-tinged and cool. The surety of her limbs, autumn pulsing through her like a heartbeat, loud and fresh, making stumbling unthinkable. The thrill of speed, of movement. The joy of it. The autumn forest streaking around her, steeped in rust and gold.

And Rory. His fingers laced with hers. The flash of his smile, black- berry stained and bright, as he tugged her deeper between the trees.

Honeysuckle is due for release 2nd April from Tor Nightfire – you can pre-order your copy on Bookshop.org