M E L I T A
The honeybee girl waited for the inevitable: the rolling, brash words of a Natural, the foaming at the mouth at their ludicrous endeavors, the thunderous outcry of ruining every sacred offering and ministration. But as
“I guess not,” she laughed, skipping away from the wheel, allowing those after them to commit to their own candle ignition. There was some relief mingled into the seditious spread of her fingers, simply because they wouldn’t have to wage some other torrential, tempestuous battle with the Naturals, wouldn’t have to curl or coil away, hide who she was or hang her head with unease and reflection. Instead, they were left to their own devices, permitted to journey along through the festival and its activities without issue. Had she been ready for another right, another quarrel, another mercurial explosion? The youth couldn’t be certain – but she knew her impulses and impetuous nature well; she might’ve drifted one way or another, occupied by either apprehension or wrath.
Fangorn bounded back to her side, and she bent down to scoop him back up in her arms, allow the gourd to see from a higher vantage point, while her gaze flickered back and forth to. What next indeed; so many options for them to explore and wander through. The grumble of her stomach, however, indicated a more pressing cause. “Maybe some food stalls?” She tipped her nose a bit more into the sky, inhaling the vibrant scents and smells of fresh food in the distance.
