a lion-hearted girl
They’d see, indeed.A swoop, a roll, and Aurelia was away from her strikes. A snicker unfurled on the edge of her mouth, ruffian and Cheshire, as if amused – on the hunt, maneuvering too. Melita had spent her childhood hunting down demons, or running from them, and this wouldn’t be any different – not from days where she’d whittled her own staffs and other armaments from broken sticks and chiseled logs, striving to survive.
There was no need to rise to the bait; the youth had plenty of frustration, irritation, and exasperation built up within her to live out its own lifetimes in an infernal conflagration. She launched once more, leaps in different directions, remaining an unpredictable little fathom, bestial wake –
Until she reached out, a long, swooping, practiced move, the staff an extension of her arm, aiming for Aurelia’s shoulders.
ready for a fight
MELITA
