Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
“Got it,” she nodded, hesitating momentarily, eager to watch how some of the tools cut into stone. But knowing she had a purpose, something to do, the youth bounded back into the spring’s reach. Fangorn followed alongside, more apt and distracted by passing, fleeing insects, but Melita kept her eyes peeled for any larger rocks.
The appealing nature of several along the blue and emerald spectrum gave her pause, and she flickered along the outstretch of the embankment, pondering how best to snag them without being burned. After a while, she retrieved a stick, long enough to start pushing and shoving the granules closer to her wake, dragging it along colorful silt, until they were nestled in her reach.
Then she returned to the older man’s side, crouching down, palms full of the hued earth. “How about these?”
The appealing nature of several along the blue and emerald spectrum gave her pause, and she flickered along the outstretch of the embankment, pondering how best to snag them without being burned. After a while, she retrieved a stick, long enough to start pushing and shoving the granules closer to her wake, dragging it along colorful silt, until they were nestled in her reach.
Then she returned to the older man’s side, crouching down, palms full of the hued earth. “How about these?”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
