Phoenix Maplewood I was sleeping in the garden

'Run, Waawaashkeshi. Run until the familiar is unfamiliar and your fur is frayed at the ends.'

It was advice that her grandmother had given her long ago. She had not understood it until she was taken from her wanderings in the mountainside. The fear her aunties, mothers, cousins, sisters, felt for the strange men who lingered in the distance as they wandered, the aggression that followed when they would approach a daughter; she understood it all now.

By chance she had slipped away. At first it was difficult, her sore limbs dragging her down, but now she ran; she would run until what was familiar ceased to be so, until her already ragged fur was unrecognisable.

Even now she did not understand what her purpose may have been, why the boy had taken her. Maybe it no longer mattered.

She kept her gaze held forward, paws bounding through the snow as nervous twitches forced her to look for any who may appear on the landscape; strangers who she would promptly run to, or familiar faces who would give her reason to turn tail. The nerves were a horrible feeling, one she was not accustomed to. Waawaashkeshi wanted to return home, but there was no home now. A warm embrace, it was all she wanted; something to let her feel secure.

mictec watched from the shadow of the trees, a marigold eyes sharp against the pale stretch of snow. the wind carried the scent of fear before the girl ever came into sight—raw, untempered, a desperation that clung to every ragged strand of her fur.

she did not move to intercept. not yet. instead, she waited, a silent watcher as the other ran, as the snow swallowed the frantic drum of her paws.

corre. the word was quiet, lost to the wind. run until the world forgets you, until the ghosts that chase you turn to dust.

but even the swiftest deer must stop. even the hunted must decide when they will cease to flee.
mictec stepped forward then, deliberate, ensuring her presence was seen before it could startle. 

the familiar is already gone, she said, voice even, measured. what will you do now?
a test, a truth. for no one could run forever.

A stranger comes. Waawaashkeshi is not listening as she speaks, her mind far too loud with the words of her family and an inexplicable drum of paws - musical and harmonious, not like her own.

Her breath is heavy as her paws are swift, but she slows as she approaches the other. Her head whips to look behind herself, Keshi slipping behind the other woman as if to shield her own form from that which she ran from. Eyes wide, ears twitching, she cannot bring herself to relax the way she would have once.

She felt dirtied, misused, misplaced. It was taking far more strength than that which she posessed to avoid crying now that she had paused; tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but they would not flow.

The drum in her mind slowing it's tempo, she managed to catch the end of the other's questioning. What will I do? She repeats, her words wary. Waawaashkeshi is not sure she knows.

mictec did not move at first, only watched as the girl pressed into her shadow, seeking refuge in the space between them. she was so young, so full of fear—mictec could feel it in the way her breath hitched, in the way she trembled like a leaf caught in an unforgiving wind. 

she did not ask what had happened. some wounds were not meant to be picked apart with words. instead, she lowered her head slightly, her voice gentle but firm. hush now, niña. you are safe here.

slowly, carefully, she shifted, allowing the girl to feel the warmth of her presence, a steady anchor against the storm she carried within. you do not have to know what comes next, not yet. right now, just breathe.

a pause. the wind whispered around them, carrying away the silence, the weight of what had been left unsaid.

She found herself able to relax in the stranger's presence. She had not been able to relax in some time.

The running was done, nothing was chasing her now; she could rest. Briefly, at least. ..Who are you? She asks, the frown still fixed on her face. My name is Waawaashkeshi.  If she was to ask the name of the other it was only polite to offer her own.

A part of her hoped that this woman would take her far, far away from here; so that Waawaashkeshi would not have to go alone, if nothing else. She wanted Nasamiituuq, but there was no sense in counting on her to save her; it was not fair to her friend. Keshi had gotten herself into this mess by not listening to her advice.

She wanted to settle down again, to be able to sing again.