I write sins, not tragedies
“Right?” she says with a little chuckle. “Have you seen all that greenery? The hills? A unicorn’s dream. Here? Not so much. Not… yet.” She sounds determined, like there’s some plan or a dream lingering in the back of her head, just waiting to be brought to fruition. There are beautiful creatures, like the chorus bees who continue to float their way, their melody now as loud as one of them, soothing music surrounding the two of them for a moment.
And for a moment, the Wraith is taken elsewhere as she closes her eyes, humming briefly along. Soon the group passes on and she turns to watch them go, The Grounds’ fauna now on her mind.
“No, it wasn’t always here. It was trapped with us when the barrier was up. Some years it graced us with its presence during LongNight. Some years it didn’t.” But when it came, it was always celebrated and fed and admired for its saving light. “It came last year despite the barrier being down, but I thought, maybe, that it might naturally fly away?”
His question prompts something she’s never thought of - what if it had a mate, somewhere?
“I… don’t know.” And that makes her sad.
And for a moment, the Wraith is taken elsewhere as she closes her eyes, humming briefly along. Soon the group passes on and she turns to watch them go, The Grounds’ fauna now on her mind.
“No, it wasn’t always here. It was trapped with us when the barrier was up. Some years it graced us with its presence during LongNight. Some years it didn’t.” But when it came, it was always celebrated and fed and admired for its saving light. “It came last year despite the barrier being down, but I thought, maybe, that it might naturally fly away?”
His question prompts something she’s never thought of - what if it had a mate, somewhere?
“I… don’t know.” And that makes her sad.
WESSEX
