MELITA
The honeybee had been at the docks all morning, assisting in unloading various supplies they’d collected throughout the season. When that had been accomplished, and her arm muscles ached in the way that denoted work, perseverance, and strongholds becoming mightier, tougher, the youth glided along the gangplanks, joining the crowd milling back and forth.She’d fully intended heading somewhere down the marketplace for some nourishment and sustenance, when she noticed a bizarre movement. Below the traffic of people seemed to be a smaller cretin: one she hadn’t seen before. It darted and wove, and she stopped for a moment along the sides, out of the way of passing individuals, tilting her head, arms folded across her chest. It reminded her of squirrels in their haphazard way of movement and motion, in never quite knowing when and where to get out of danger.
Eventually, it seemed to make it to the other side, and Melita shook her cranium, easing a sigh of relief. Time for food. Her companion, nestled at her ankles, watching the commotion too with his uncanny gaze, escorted alongside, leaping and bounding past. “Best be careful, little one,” she added to the weasel as she passed by, as if the animal could understand her. Fangorn gave a very singular glance to the creature, narrowing his eyes, immediately suspicious, sniffing at it.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Give the bruises out like gifts
