there's always a glimmer in those
Fangorn hissed and growled to Pim in return, nesting his way between Melita’s ankles, like a faithful, stalwart guard, He might not have been as large, or as ferocious, but the little gourd believed himself just as mighty, settling in amongst ferns and growth, eager and ready to defend if necessary.
Melita’s attention was half on Phoebe, and the other portions attending to the beginnings of her basket, starting at the bottom, shuffling and weaving sticks and reeds together, forming a base, large enough to encompass future gifts. Alive sounded like such a distant, all-encompassing thing, when there were so many other parameters and preludes to begin within: but maybe the midwife didn’t want to touch upon those notions just as much as Melita avoided. Alive, when others weren’t. Alive, when others were wounded and mauled. Alive, when maybe they shouldn’t have been – luck and fortune playing out on their avenues when it hadn’t for so many individuals and citizens. Her fingers shook at the notion, and she clenched them into fists for a moment – nearly wishing for better days when they lingered in the labyrinth and swung at wolves. At the offer of medication, for pain, for sleep, the youth considered. “That’d be nice. I’ve been all right though.” Maybe she should save it for those less fortunate, incapable of being mended or soothed right away.
Melita’s attention was half on Phoebe, and the other portions attending to the beginnings of her basket, starting at the bottom, shuffling and weaving sticks and reeds together, forming a base, large enough to encompass future gifts. Alive sounded like such a distant, all-encompassing thing, when there were so many other parameters and preludes to begin within: but maybe the midwife didn’t want to touch upon those notions just as much as Melita avoided. Alive, when others weren’t. Alive, when others were wounded and mauled. Alive, when maybe they shouldn’t have been – luck and fortune playing out on their avenues when it hadn’t for so many individuals and citizens. Her fingers shook at the notion, and she clenched them into fists for a moment – nearly wishing for better days when they lingered in the labyrinth and swung at wolves. At the offer of medication, for pain, for sleep, the youth considered. “That’d be nice. I’ve been all right though.” Maybe she should save it for those less fortunate, incapable of being mended or soothed right away.
who have been through the dark
MELITA
