to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Fangorn’s low grumbles took effort to piece together, but in the end, Melita began to circle the tree. Glancing for tracks, for signs, for measures used, taken, and formulated in this game of tracking and catching – and really only looked upwards when the gourd’s vines began to gently creep up the trunk. “Oh,” she offered softly, before smirking, snickering, and placating her companion by slowly rising up the timber herself – fully capable of shimmying, of climbing, of clambering along with ease.And when she got to the proportions where Sah was waiting – she giggled and grinned. “Found you,” while hooked very easily upon an opposing branch, dangling above fog and murk. “Very clever.”
to be the sun
MELITA
