to be lit up from within
vein by vein
Her voice lilted and offered refrains of the number until it could cease and desist. “Ready or not, here I come!” Vaulted in return, and then she and Fangorn set off – no longer leaning upon the boulder, righting herself into the midsts of fog and mist.Now, Melita had zero extra senses – human through and through. But what she did have was a sneaky little companion who wouldn’t mind helping. With a nod, both of them parted ways for a little, just enough to be in each other’s sight, as they began searching. The honeybee was quiet, delicate, in her approach (a different experience from anyone who knew her long enough), tiptoeing along the arches of dirt, soil, and warrens, breathing in the lake air, trying to relish any sights, any sounds, that seemed out of place.
The gourd, however, could scent and follow trails, and his little vines pushed him off the ground as he rolled this way and that, until he came to the edges of a tree. And there the aroma seemed to taper off – confused, for a moment, there was a silent grumble, an echo of companion bonds, that turned and twisted Melita away from a particular patch of brambles and thorns, and back towards the pumpkin. “Did you find something?” was a delicate whisper.
to be the sun
MELITA
