Amalia
don't make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out the light
"I don't know." Amalia is always forthright: it is in her nature to be so, a bluntness tempered by anxiety, honest answers to honest questions so long as acceptance is granted. "The Fae are skilled at blending among the trees, and the forest is alive to their needs. There is a war-chief who disapproves of humans in the woods, a goddess who will teach you its ways for a price, a turtle with a world on its back..." She shrugs, knowing this is but s fragment, the smallest portion of a greater puzzle which makes up the Greatwood. It is marvelous and magical, dangerous and dark- but staring down at Melita's gaze the baker can see fire, and doubts that any warning would keep the girl from the world.
She smiles as the youth begins to climb. Jyoti spirals down to investigate Fangorn, fascinated by the moving gourd who wanders through the grass. Settling back into her nook Amalia waits for the girl to arise, her half-begun basket back in slender hands. Melita, miraculously, is better equipped, having collected flexible reeds. Eyeing the equipment with silent approval Amalia smiles and nods, raising her beginnings of a coarse net to show to the younger girl. "I started in the middle with four flexible sticks as a frame, but honestly? I'm making it a up as I go"
She smiles as the youth begins to climb. Jyoti spirals down to investigate Fangorn, fascinated by the moving gourd who wanders through the grass. Settling back into her nook Amalia waits for the girl to arise, her half-begun basket back in slender hands. Melita, miraculously, is better equipped, having collected flexible reeds. Eyeing the equipment with silent approval Amalia smiles and nods, raising her beginnings of a coarse net to show to the younger girl. "I started in the middle with four flexible sticks as a frame, but honestly? I'm making it a up as I go"
