you must burn brighter than ever
Fangorn continued to grumble to his constituents, but like in so many recent years past, they ignored him. Their vines snaked along tree roots, but couldn’t seem to fathom a way to reach the higher, lofting branches, so they were safe from any current onslaughts. Melita sighed through the leaves and fronds, watching them billow, twist, and turn; some of their own accord, some with the humid breeze. “Probably,” she answered a little hollowly to his first question; never really considering it.
But she nodded, uncertain if Locke could even see it from his whereabouts. “That’s usually how it happens.” The pumpkins retreated, back to wherever they roamed in all the other seasons, until the following autumn. Her eyes watched as some started to cease and desist already though, rolling off into deeper sections of the wood. “This might be our chance,” she laughed, hinting towards escape as she pointed in the direction the pumpkins weren’t occupying.
But she nodded, uncertain if Locke could even see it from his whereabouts. “That’s usually how it happens.” The pumpkins retreated, back to wherever they roamed in all the other seasons, until the following autumn. Her eyes watched as some started to cease and desist already though, rolling off into deeper sections of the wood. “This might be our chance,” she laughed, hinting towards escape as she pointed in the direction the pumpkins weren’t occupying.
Melita
