a lion-hearted girl
Some lessons were harsher and harder than others; and while Melita had her fair share of duplicity, scars, and loss, the impacts likely differed here. A physical devastation, in a way, even though he had another eye that was probably perfectly fine and adequate – other than depth perceptions. Her head tilted, wondering if she should feel sorry for his efforts, or merely remain silent, with no further need to rub salt or sand into the wounds. She chose the latter, tying off a limb filled with the dune’s essence, before emptying more into the other makeshift arm.But the honeybee still pondered ways or means to alleviate, brow furrowing vaguely, nose wrinkling in thought, tongue poking out while she concentrated on a piece of fabric not applying to her wishes. “True. I haven’t heard of many going to it for healing.” Maybe in the hopes it would know that one’s beloveds had made it to Mort – but otherwise, she hadn’t pictured the ragged herald as a mender of sorts. “What about Safrin?”
ready for a fight
MELITA
