Bonnie had flown too far and now she didn't know where she was.
She landed on a fence post and thought.
She remembered what her mother had told her: when you are lost, use what you know.
She knew: flowers smell like home is near. She flew toward the sweetest smell.
She knew: the sun sets in the west, and the hive faces east. She kept the setting sun on her left.
She knew: the sound of water meant the stream, and the stream ran alongside the meadow, and the meadow was next to the garden where the hive hung.
She followed the sound of water.
She found the stream.
She followed the meadow.
She found the garden.
She found the hive, warm and buzzing and smelling of honey.
Her sisters bumped against her in greeting.
Bonnie had found her way home using nothing but what she already knew. And that, she thought, was a kind of magic.