Theea
they may say you're too small, you're too young
to do it all, but you're a giant on the inside
to do it all, but you're a giant on the inside
His silence steadies me more than any assurance could. I don’t cry, don’t spiral, don’t see it happening again behind my eyes. I just feel that exhausting ache—a yearning I know will go unfulfilled—and somehow his shoulder against mine, his hand holding mine, makes it lighter to carry.
He shifts to tend the fire and when he settles back in, he’s closer. His large hand gives mine a sure squeeze. I look down at our joined hands, warmth blooming there like embers under cupped palms. I brush my thumb across his knuckles again, grateful for how solid he is, how he doesn’t move unless it’s on purpose.
His mention of old rides draws a small smile out of me—the kind that honors memory without breaking it open. “If we ever get our hands on a horse, I’ll get you back in the saddle,” I promise quietly. “I heard there’s a ranch in Kings End. We could visit together.”
The cub bats at a loose strand of my hair with that ridiculously large paw and I grin with a laugh, then suck in a breath with a wince when the laugh tugs at my ribs. “I’m alright,” I tell him quickly, meeting his eye because I can almost feel him eating himself alive over it.
When he says he’s keeping the cub, something bright edges through the fatigue. I glance up at him, incredulous. “You want me to name her?” Then down to the little face, soft and bright as a moon. I bend closer. “Well, little girl? Any ideas?”
My gaze drifts to our hands again—the map of his scars crisscrossing years of stubborn work, the hairline nicks on my fingers from knives I shouldn’t have been playing with—barely visible on skin as pale as my mother’s. Firelight flickers over everything: the silver-spotted cub, the threadwork at my side, the blanket we’ve pulled tight. Between the flames and the windbreak he built, I’d almost call it warm.
“Aria,” I offer at last, stroking the cub’s cheek, saying it slowly to test it. “It means ‘melody’ in the traveler’s tongue. For that little roar of hers. I think you're supposed to roll the 'R', but I haven't gotten good at that yet.” I huff a breath that’s almost a laugh, careful not to again. “I’ve been reading a little of it—figured I should, since my family knows some.”
I look up at him with a smile that crinkles the corners of my eyes and catch his gaze. “Thoughts?”
He shifts to tend the fire and when he settles back in, he’s closer. His large hand gives mine a sure squeeze. I look down at our joined hands, warmth blooming there like embers under cupped palms. I brush my thumb across his knuckles again, grateful for how solid he is, how he doesn’t move unless it’s on purpose.
His mention of old rides draws a small smile out of me—the kind that honors memory without breaking it open. “If we ever get our hands on a horse, I’ll get you back in the saddle,” I promise quietly. “I heard there’s a ranch in Kings End. We could visit together.”
The cub bats at a loose strand of my hair with that ridiculously large paw and I grin with a laugh, then suck in a breath with a wince when the laugh tugs at my ribs. “I’m alright,” I tell him quickly, meeting his eye because I can almost feel him eating himself alive over it.
When he says he’s keeping the cub, something bright edges through the fatigue. I glance up at him, incredulous. “You want me to name her?” Then down to the little face, soft and bright as a moon. I bend closer. “Well, little girl? Any ideas?”
My gaze drifts to our hands again—the map of his scars crisscrossing years of stubborn work, the hairline nicks on my fingers from knives I shouldn’t have been playing with—barely visible on skin as pale as my mother’s. Firelight flickers over everything: the silver-spotted cub, the threadwork at my side, the blanket we’ve pulled tight. Between the flames and the windbreak he built, I’d almost call it warm.
“Aria,” I offer at last, stroking the cub’s cheek, saying it slowly to test it. “It means ‘melody’ in the traveler’s tongue. For that little roar of hers. I think you're supposed to roll the 'R', but I haven't gotten good at that yet.” I huff a breath that’s almost a laugh, careful not to again. “I’ve been reading a little of it—figured I should, since my family knows some.”
I look up at him with a smile that crinkles the corners of my eyes and catch his gaze. “Thoughts?”
