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The worldly Artemis is always very troubled. She is clearly a fairy tale writer, yet she always produces cruel and sad stories. Bewildered by this, she becomes increasingly despondent, with only one friend, "Bow and Arrow," persisting in helping her find the meaning of her writing. Is she writing for others, or for herself?
Artemis always forgets that warm afternoon when her mother accompanied her in flipping through mythology picture books. The characters under her pen incessantly rush like moths to a flame into their own innermost darkest pains, and try to piece back together that illusory happiness. Buzz buzz, what is that sound?