Maea
My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb
The chanting was snatched away by the winter wind, but the glow of firelight shone like a beacon in the night. Cold to her bones, it pulled the crow in like a moth, unable to resist the allure. And like a moth she flitted above the circle of flame, surprised by the presence of the woman as much as by the ritual she was performing.
Hunger stripped away her usual reticense; swooping in to land, the albinistic bird shimmered and changed into a woman, not that much taller than the priestess. Robed in black and crimson, hair silver to her gold, she stared at what seemed like her mirror image. Her hands flexed restlessly, fighting the impulse to cut the proceeding short and claim the pig for herself.
"What are you doing?" she asked, too clipped to be entirely polite.
Hunger stripped away her usual reticense; swooping in to land, the albinistic bird shimmered and changed into a woman, not that much taller than the priestess. Robed in black and crimson, hair silver to her gold, she stared at what seemed like her mirror image. Her hands flexed restlessly, fighting the impulse to cut the proceeding short and claim the pig for herself.
"What are you doing?" she asked, too clipped to be entirely polite.
And I remember thinking — I want to be like them
