She sprung, fully realized, from the palm leaves, to flit around the garden.
“Everything you need is given to you.”
Still, she wanted more than she needed.
“All is yours, save for the one beating heart.”
All did not satisfy. There was yet more, even in a world where all is provided, given; there is that which can be taken. And so she took the beating heart, and having taken, she bit into the deep red muscle, marking herself with the blood.
“Now you must leave.”
Looking down at her stained hands, her stained body, seeing her stained face in the still water, she knew she could never be happy in the garden. And so she wanders the earth, seeking that which can be taken.