to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Victory; no matter how miniscule or pathetic, crowed along her soul. Standing amidst the dampened sands, the widening dunes, her feral intricacies lost a part of their might, as she bent forward, hands on her knees, panting. While her locks beat crimson curls rampantly, twisted, and turned over her face, stuck partly to her cheek, she beamed up at him. “I try,” which then bellowed into a coughing fit. Fangorn managed to find her again, grumbling and hissing all the while, moderately concerned he’d been left behind and that she seemed to be completely exhausted. As she leaned over, hastening breath back into her lungs, wherewithal back into her bones, aching muscles, she scratched at the little gourd’s head. Then, she admitted some strangled essence of defeat, slower, plodding steps, before dramatically falling to the drier, hotter portions of embankments, the heat already warming, soothing her limbs and joints. “All right. I need a break.”to be the sun
MELITA
