M E L I T A
Like a beacon, she followed her line of sight to where Vai pointed, indicating the hidden, but not silent, presence of the aforementioned queen, leading her disciples and courtiers to the promised land. Unfortunately, her newfound friend was right, there’d be nothing for them to claim or snag today. “Too bad,” she uttered, but in reality, she didn’t feel the sentiment; she’d seen, heard, and experienced a new sensation of wonder, and that was nothing to be disappointed about. Honey could wait.
She swung back towards Vai, leaving the bees to their hive-making, to their colonizing, brushing her hands together from the soil, dirt, and brush stuck there. Her gaze flickered back and forth, from the rush of the glade, to the pregnant woman, smile still stuck there, not intending to leave her to her lonesome in the thickened wood. She reeled back to her side with a vibrant hum, intending to portray the bees as effectively as she could, but laughter rang over her and soon the entire farce and pretense subsided, funneling and pervading with ebullient overtures instead. The youth stretched her arms overhead, then reached down and grabbed hold of Fangorn, allowing him to crawl up to her shoulder while her tones bent and molded their way through the boughs and limbs. “What brought you to the glade today?” Perhaps there was something else she intended to do and Melita could help her; the restlessness wove its way into her motions again, begging for some sort of movement, purpose, or motivation.
