to be made of sunshine is beautiful
to be the light and the warmth and to be loved
The honeybee snickered slightly at the notion of too much force, derision, or contempt behind the pulse of a string; understood the nature of such belligerence. But since she had no hate or loathing towards the gulls, perhaps she’d be better suited to flinging the armament into the sky. “All right, get ready,” was the only warning Maeve would receive – the girl’s eyes flicking over to the bag and cage. “Paige would probably like that anyway,” she mentioned with a laugh, before applying herself to the task, only shaking her head at Aidon and Fangorn (the gourd seemed to be picking up the spat out stone and throwing it again).
Notching the blunted arrow, she maneuvered and aimed, away from the beams of sunlight in her eyes, away from the other miscreants, pinpointing on a single bird that seemed to be hovering lower than the rest of its flock. Maybe it was weak. Maybe it was distracted in that mocking sort of outcry. Either way, Melita presided in her aim – confident and cool, a breath instilled in her lungs, and then released the strand.
Notching the blunted arrow, she maneuvered and aimed, away from the beams of sunlight in her eyes, away from the other miscreants, pinpointing on a single bird that seemed to be hovering lower than the rest of its flock. Maybe it was weak. Maybe it was distracted in that mocking sort of outcry. Either way, Melita presided in her aim – confident and cool, a breath instilled in her lungs, and then released the strand.
to be made of sunshine is painful
to be too hot to touch, too far away to reach
MELITA
