She would return to her world, and he to his own.

But even years later, well into his old age, Owin would sometimes glimpse a flash of white when he walked through the trees. He would briefly catch the scent of valley lillies on the breeze; then, as quickly as it came, it would be gone. In his mind he would often wonder whether his journey had ever happened at all.

Original concept done in ink, gouache, and watercolour on illustration board for my storybook project, Whitebird. Prints available at www.inprnt.com/gallery/olivia.…