M E L I T A
The jubilation was heaven-sent, and she rejoiced in being able to pat them, stroke them, become a known entity to creatures embodied in celestial hues and divine tints. Her hand reached across the soft fur, scratched at one’s ear, and simply reveled in the ability to do so. Breaths eased, light and airy, ethereal and content, grin intertwined with the fire of her passion, with the mettle and untamed savagery blanketed and buffeted beneath those grins and smiles. They didn’t care about her ambitions, her aspirations, how many times she’d sinned or rebelled; they were after snacks and scratches, and everything was dandy.
The screech came without advance notice. It pulsed and pervaded through the girl’s entire being, until she was frozen vessel, blood running cold, as the luxere fled, panicked, forsaken, drifting in every direction, and her hand was left in the air, touching naught. She was taken instantly back to the Rift, and despite her strength, her conviction, her rage and vehemence, the girl couldn’t stop shuddering.
The heavy, wet breathing came from all directions, and she wondered what she had available for weapons. Sticks? Stones? How close could she get, how long could she prevail and defend Phoebe, before they were set upon and devoured? How many times had she nearly been consumed, and was saved by pluck, by anger, by luck, and by fortitude? What demon threatened them? Fangorn pressed against her leg and hissed, his eyes ghosting in every direction, trying to pinpoint the location of the impending doom and damnation.
Then, all at once, it ended.
A warning. This was an ultimatum in the deepest thickets, a pressing, looming, ominous declaration, and she wouldn’t be enough to combat it. Perhaps it was that feeling, that statement alone, that left her still shaking, fury mixing with helplessness, and she was empty of abilities and weaponry, incapable of combating these unknown forces. It was like she was meek, when she’d tried to become the exact opposite her entire life. But the youth still turned to Phoebe, wide-eyed, scooping Fangorn into her arms, pondering the weight of the surroundings. “We should leave.”
