you must burn brighter than ever
Melita returned to familiarity soon after coming home – settling herself in a tree, bare foot and content, leaning against the trunk, and staring out over the abyss. One leg draped downward over the bough, dangling and maneuvering back and forth while she seethed and contemplated – probably both – still uncertain over some future movements. On what she was going to do next. Conspiring was never something she was particularly genius at – mostly considering they were foolish notions, and she opened up the letter she’d received again, reading it over a few times, smoothing out the crinkles, before closing it back up.
As she went to put it away in her bag, Fangorn rumbled, pointing his vines down below. Her eyes followed, flickering in the beams of the sun and the indicated direction. And there they were, some hordes of gathered pumpkins, grumbling and hissing along the ground, near the bridge. Were they picking at it? It was difficult to tell, and truth be told, maybe they didn’t know what they were doing either. Snorting, she sneered at them from above. “Come on guys, don’t you have anything better to do?”
As she went to put it away in her bag, Fangorn rumbled, pointing his vines down below. Her eyes followed, flickering in the beams of the sun and the indicated direction. And there they were, some hordes of gathered pumpkins, grumbling and hissing along the ground, near the bridge. Were they picking at it? It was difficult to tell, and truth be told, maybe they didn’t know what they were doing either. Snorting, she sneered at them from above. “Come on guys, don’t you have anything better to do?”
Melita
