Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
Oh, look, another glass of water. Forgoing and forgetting the convenience that her uncle sought, and sorely saw she needed, she downed the cup once more. Her other hand clutched the barrel, because at some point the ground had started spinning, and she wasn’t quite ready to go zig-zagging her way home yet. “Ummmm,” flickered across her tongue as her mind attempted to register the parameters and potentials.
She glanced down at her ankle, then her wrist, and then thought about all the daggers layered beneath her dress, but those weren’t bracelets, so maybe they didn’t matter. But weapons were weapons and useful items were her bread and butter. Ooh, bread.
Eventually the consideration, which lasted all of five seconds but felt like eternities, launched with her upraised, and lacking a weapon, wrist. “On this hand!”
She glanced down at her ankle, then her wrist, and then thought about all the daggers layered beneath her dress, but those weren’t bracelets, so maybe they didn’t matter. But weapons were weapons and useful items were her bread and butter. Ooh, bread.
Eventually the consideration, which lasted all of five seconds but felt like eternities, launched with her upraised, and lacking a weapon, wrist. “On this hand!”
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
