Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
“Nope!” Came a bright cheery answer, and then on second thought, pondered the length of the jungles, the vines. “Well, not this part of it, at least.” But the confidence, and self-assurance remained, woven without preamble or misgivings. A survivor, a fighter, weapons at her hilt, world at her feet, and strangers nearby who seemed content for whatever journey they were about to take.
A flash of brightly colored hues dashed along the corner of her eye, and Fangorn grumbled, waving his own set of vines around. “Did you see that?” Asking Locke, of course, for the gourd could only answer in rumbling, nonsensical answers; her head tilting. “Looked almost purple. And maybe some red.” A beak? Feathers? She inclined towards the canopy, where she thought she’d seen it fly, gaze heading up, up, and up, until her head was tilted back, gazing openly at the boughs.
A flash of brightly colored hues dashed along the corner of her eye, and Fangorn grumbled, waving his own set of vines around. “Did you see that?” Asking Locke, of course, for the gourd could only answer in rumbling, nonsensical answers; her head tilting. “Looked almost purple. And maybe some red.” A beak? Feathers? She inclined towards the canopy, where she thought she’d seen it fly, gaze heading up, up, and up, until her head was tilted back, gazing openly at the boughs.
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
