MELITA
Fangorn grumbled something low, and for a moment the youth thought he was merely extending his complaints. But it’d actually been a warning, of someone else lingering close by, and the honeybee ceased for a moment, listless and languid in the puddles, drenched and soused, before the other emerged. How many wandered within the treeline? She stilled for a second longer, forming the whereabouts of her weapons in that scrutinizing, ferocious mind: daggers on her ankles and further up her calves, staff and quiver on her back, bracelet on her wrist to draw from – protection heeded and necessary. But would it be for this instant?
Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the stranger. She didn’t recognize him at all. Taller than her, but maybe not as strong, maybe not as sturdy. If there were any possibilities of danger or treachery, the youth could immediately yield to one of her common-place armaments. And while her fingers thought about grasping hold of any of them, he spoke.
Melita blinked rapidly, tilting her head, the question unexpected. “Yes.” An arch to her brow followed, and then the specious narrowing of her gaze. “You?”
You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun
Disappear into the sun
