MELITA
The tempest of LongNight didn’t quite burn against her any longer, but it didn’t mean she rested on her laurels. A skip in her step, a bounding of weapons at her back, and the youth maneuvered through street after street, route after route, until she’d reached outskirts and carried, continued on. Undaunted and unafraid, as if caught by the wiles of nature time and time again, she paraded and flew, skipped and ran, leapt and flourished beneath the wake of the morning sun and the shape of the clouds, the restless energy surging through her blood. Fangorn did his ample best to keep up, long hours of trailing and tracing after her had allowed him to grow in fortitude and strength too. He just lacked the sufficient legs to actually do much more successfully.Once they reached the woodland though, Melita was instantly distracted by more of the memory mud, floating and wandering along the surface. Not bothered by the potential of some other disaster leering and peeking its way through the brush or bristling nettles, the youth crouched down and poked at the muck again, giggling only a little when it seemed to grow squeamish and attempt to move out of her way. She cupped her palms around a smaller one, and maneuvered it into a ball, and shifted her hands upwards, forcing it to bounce up and down on her whims.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
