Epilogue
Finn was staring at the ground, wondering if he’d well and truly lost it. There had been many moments the past year that he had wondered if his brain had broken, but this was the final straw.
Flora wasn’t fazed.
“I’m off my rocker,” he whispered.
“No!” Flora said, waving her hands. “We needed to do this.”
Finn looked at the small hole they’d dug, the dust overturned a small spot on a canvas of endless red. A sign stuck out of the earth.
R.I.P.
Aragorn
the rabbit
Flora was staring at the dust, humming to herself. She never batted an eye at these sorts of things.
A hot breeze blew past. Somehow, she still smelled like sunscreen, even in Madagascar where everything smelled like sweat.
“He was a good rabbit,” she remarked, “and he never got a proper burial. More importantly, you needed closure.”
“I feel insane.”
“Just take a deep breath and let it be insane for a second.”
Finn listened.
They’d hiked out to a series of trees, dug a hole in the ground, placed a printout of Aragorn in the hole, and covered it up.
It was silent for a few minutes.
She laughed seeing his face.
“It may actually make you feel better one day.”
“I’m sure you’re right. You’re right about everything.”
“I know.”
They both turned to see the sunset, a brushstroke of brilliant gold and blazing orange setting over red sands.
“Beautiful,” she muttered, plopping down in the dust.
He sat down as well, glancing at her and still not believing she had agreed to be his. Never to be parted, he hoped. It was all strange to think about—he and Flora together—but then sometimes nothing in the world seemed more right than this.
She leaned on him now, her rightful place. He put his arm around her and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Never thought we’d be here,” she remarked, giggling. “If you told me this three years ago I would have said you were crazy. Finn Woodhouse and me in Madagascar. I’d have lost my mind.”
“You always say that like you got lucky.”
“I did,” she said, sounding convinced. “Even if you are an old con artist.”
“Even if you are the chauffeur’s daughter.”
“Hey!”
She swung at him, but he caught her arm—as he had learned to do over the months—and kissed her.
“What do you think our life will be like together, Finn?” she asked, once they had pulled away.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Probably boring, very mundane.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
She smiled at him, leaning on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her, sighing happily. Something he didn’t often do.
“I’m going to miss you when you leave,” she said.
“Five months is going to be a lifetime. I can’t wait to see you already,” he added. “And I’m sending the jet to come pick you up when this is over. Don’t argue with me.”
Flora paused and glanced up at him, grinning.
“Oh, I’ll walk.”