Lost Creek Hollow let it spill quietly from your hands
i will pry his bony fingers free
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@Merrick

she woke with a start, panting.

the dream (nightmare?) clung to her, fleeing fast on rapid hoofbeats the way dreams were wont to do. a dark shadow, a nameless face. a menace. the rush of water, distant but dangerous -- and somehow, trapped between it all, the peril of her only child --

"merrick," indra gasped, shifting upright and crawling across the den. she had fallen asleep in a pool of golden sunlight and her child was nowhere to be found. her heart hammered against the spring of her breasts, and she pulled out from the den --

a little too fast,

a little too panicked,

but he was there, thank god: her shoulders fell as the panic unwound from her body. for reasons she could not name or say she stepped over to him and pressed her head gently to him; a gesture of holding and having and love - he was okay, it was all a dream -- right?
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.