M E L I T A
She received a compliment and returned it with a bright smile; winsome and genuine, lifted all the up to her golden eyes. They were small snippets of helpfulness and assistance, but with the burden of sheltering so many individuals, it seemed only right that she give back in some fashion. But then something was off; she watched him as he started to answer her first inquiry about occupations. There were answers and enigmas lying beneath the farm response, but she didn’t press. The girl was tempted, for her mind was a whirling blur of questions over and over, until she’d been suitably distracted by another moment or instant, and then it started once more. But LongNight had immersed itself into their lives with a blistering vengeance, and she had a feeling it had sunk its claws into Emmett too. She remembered Kiada and the death knell sparked against the door, her eyes flicking toward it absentmindedly, before casting downward, back upon the loose wads of paper and the wrappers at her feet. So Melita kept her inquiries light and airy, humming, the only time she could ever hold a melodic tune. “A farm! What does your family raise?”
Then introductions passed, hands shaken, a mutual exchange of amiability. “Nice to meet you, Emmett.” At the very least, afterwards, he seemed to be consumed with the notions of where to put all the trash, garbage, and debris they managed to accumulate, which, based on the current piles, was going to be an issue soon. Why couldn’t anyone pick up after themselves? Was the bar always like this? She almost growled at the notion; but she was sidetracked again by the pressing answers. “That’s a great idea!” Maybe it could be a public burn, like the Spark Bird’s magnificent display, except this time it’d be a massive inferno to send Long Night into the distance, far down the line of another pressing year, incoming but farther, farther ahead. Maybe it’d be part of renewal and rebirth too – like when flames traced over woods, eating away at old ash, sunken pine, destroyed oak, and allowed new shoots, leaves, and saplings to reach through the cinder paths.
Of course, immediately after her head twisted back to stare at him at the information about him capable of being a donkey. The girl blinked, once, twice, thinking perhaps she’d heard wrong or misinterpreted his meaning; she even glanced down at Fangorn to confirm her confusion and bewilderment. Was he a shifter then? There’d been a few in the Rift, but more of them had incantations and enchantments, bestowing them until exhaustion against the onslaught of terror and misery. Melita had nothing but her wits, strength, and incredible tenacity to push onwards. “You mean – you can change into one?” There was no disbelief on her tongue, but genuine, intrigued surprise, hands still holding onto her latest trash collection. A moment later, perhaps in the space of a beat, a reaction was chosen with aplomb and good-heartedness. “How cool! Did you get to choose what you shift into?”
