Yesterday, 1:48 PM
autumn has begun its slow work upon the forest. beneath the caribou's hooves, fallen leaves darken with rain, and the bulls have taken to scraping their antlers against the trees. soon they will turn south, following the old roads their ancestors walked.
fa’liya wonders whether she will follow.
a pale pelt rests across her narrow shoulders, its ivory spine bordered by rust-red edges, carefully stained with clay and blood. caan's gift is a little cumbersome upon her slight frame, but she has grown fond of its weight. occasionally, she noses into the fur from where she lay among the resting cows. one has allowed its calf to sleep against her flank, and she watches the little creature's breathing with an attentiveness bordering upon fascination. something about the sight troubles her, though she cannot quite determine why.
perhaps it is the dream again. reborn mother and renewing child.
her crows sing somewhere overhead.
fa’liya wonders whether she will follow.
a pale pelt rests across her narrow shoulders, its ivory spine bordered by rust-red edges, carefully stained with clay and blood. caan's gift is a little cumbersome upon her slight frame, but she has grown fond of its weight. occasionally, she noses into the fur from where she lay among the resting cows. one has allowed its calf to sleep against her flank, and she watches the little creature's breathing with an attentiveness bordering upon fascination. something about the sight troubles her, though she cannot quite determine why.
perhaps it is the dream again. reborn mother and renewing child.
her crows sing somewhere overhead.