MELITA
The little beast was triumphant – full of conquest and victory, settling around the curve of his enigmatic grin. Melita arched her brow at him as he sauntered forth, a bit more bounce to his bounding, clearly pleased and satisfied with the arrangements and proceedings: outsmarting tiny children. She bent low to pick him up and scratch the top of his head again, smiling beatifically all the more as the boys came back into the fold, announcing the gourd’s success. Fangorn, for his part, besides the obvious, smug outliers, brandished a growl, a hiss, meant to be taken as tokens of friendship, rather than fear, apprehension, or the usual bluster. “Thank you, boys.” Melita encouraged and acknowledged their efforts, beaming at them again.As for the incoming roles and changes of seasons, the honeybee youth was inclined to agree, but also ponder and wonder over what else would adapt, spiral, or recoil. Would it be the same as the last time – hunting down vicious, wild pumpkins (and then what should she do, when one already had claimed and partnership of her soul?) Her heart settled – striving to predict the winds would be fruitless. “Maybe. I guess we’ll have to see.” Leafchange had brought her new life. Leafchange has brought her Fangorn. Leafchange might have more foreign things to prosper and regale, revere and ascend; or more of the chilling notions, creeping along the winds of Frostfall and its hollowed LongNight. Time would only tell.
Then she turned to leave, a wave of farewell to all four other occupants. “Thanks again! See you all soon!” The pair hastened along the ruins again, clinging to columns, shadows, and the bright, whimsical pockets of sun.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
