to be lit up from within
vein by vein
It was probably wise, and safe, that Sunjata couldn't say anything about the inaccuracy. She emitted a grumbling snort when her arrow missed, a sneer running rampant across her mouth; if she’d had hackles, they would’ve been raised things, a howl in crimson, wolfish displays. Instead of doing anything else in the muddling fumes of frustration, she narrowed her eyes, grabbing hold of another arrow along her back while Sunjata seemed to try and keep the bird around the same place. Notching, breathing, on a sharp inhale, she drew back the string, everything inherent, everything a nuance of comfort, of familiarity, of power. Now she just had to ensure precision again. On an exhale, she released, the bow pinpointed, the arrow straight and sure.Fangorn for his tactics and measures, hissed at the griffin, and then continued to implore. Slower, lacking any legs or arms to help with movement, the gourd’s range was a leap and a bound across the sand, glancing back to see if Haai was following, before continuing to escalate the amusement, leaving massive pumpkin prints in dampened sand.
to be the sun
MELITA
