Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
A soft wind blew through fallowing leaves, outlining them in ruby and gold. Half again as many littered the ground and turned the forest into a bejeweled cathedral, a throne room of kings to which a wanderer had been granted access. She walked with her back bent between silvery aspen and white birches, kneeling occasionally to uncover the season's treasures. The basket carried in the crook of an arm was close to full, brimming with bounty; chanterelles and black trumpet mushroom crowded alongside rowanberry clusters, hawthorn berries and a precious little pouch of cloudberries picked along the edge of a moor. Already a full bag of wild apples weighed heavy on her shoulders, but it seemed a shame to return so soon - it wasn't even noon yet. Getting tired of my own words
A rustle in the vegetation had her looking up. Something big was moving through the sparsening underbrush. Through a pale curtain of hair Maea watched how a moose emerged from the woods, stepping gracefully over blueberry barrens and moss-capped stone to ease itself down the river bank. Thinking it might cross to the other side, she remained still, holding her breath. It was a bull, larger than any she'd seen, its antlers a crown of bone long since shed of their velvet coating. He looked to be nearing the end of his prime; no doubt many a young fool had tried their mettle against his strength, and no doubt he'd reigned surpreme for this Leafchange as well. Next year... who knew how that would go? There would always be new challengers, and sooner or later someone would take his place.
The moose paused, as if sensing her gaze, and for a second their eyes locked. Did he resent the impending change, she wondered? Did he even know it was coming? There was such calm in those honey-brown eyes; if he did know, how did he live in peace with that knowledge? An Attuned might have been able to ask. But she wasn't so fortunate, and the spell was broken a moment later, as the bull heaved a snorting sigh and turned away to surge into the river. Steady and sure on its feet, it swam through the rapids and emerged on the opposite shore, rising with water sloughing off in glistening sheets. A cloud of biters followed, like a pesky retinue swarming around a ruler that did not deign to notice them - and a moment later she found herself alone once more.
Breathing out slowly, the woman sank down onto a mossy boulder, the basket nestled into the brush by her feet. Peace... She would love even a measure of what she'd seen in those eyes. Coming home had offered some relief, but whenever she wasn't burying herself in chores, that serenity began to fray. Heavy thoughts crowded her horizon like stormclouds, inviting nightmares back where none had been for a good few seasons. Dreams of falling, dreams of sinking down into a sea where no light could reach, and a recurring old one where a monster stalked around the hose she hid in, only for it to be revealed that she'd been the monster all along. Even thinking about them now, in broad daylight, left a acrid taste on her tongue. Pushing herself up like one trying to outrun some unseen enemy, Maea hoisted the basket back on her harm, adjusted a strap and set off downhill towards the river that glittered just past a row of trees. Maybe if she spent another hour or two fishing, that would be enough foraging for the day. And once she got home she could clean the haul, lay mushrooms out to dry, and try that recipe for blackberry preserve she had found on a shelf in the pantry. Then there was the books, the list of herbs she wanted to plant in the garden she wanted to establish come Flowerbirth, not to mention the constant work in progress that was her new workshop...
No, she certainly did not lack for things to keep herself occupied. Surely it had to be enough to keep her out of trouble. Surely.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
