set for march 22
as iza's body thins with travel, her sickness intensifies.
this early, pregnancy would not announce itself. shifting hormones do not yet grow her flanks. it is the strain of being alone, hunting solely for herself with whatever energy is left after her long hours of travel.
at last she comes to what seems the end of the world. to her right, the sea is a lapping void of salt.
to her right, a spill of forest clambering to rivershore and higher land.
no wolves.
thickening, the trees lacing overhead. iza follows a rivulet of water into the deepcast shadows.
in a coil of oak, she finds the sentiment of peace.
exploration is hard.
she is hungry.
excavation is harder.
she is hungrier.
iza cringes at the squawk of crows, harsh. unrelenting. but it is their feathered bodies which lead her to carrion beyond the edge of the forest, a dead seal not yet composing.
she fills her belly with the feverishness of desperation.
the seal is butchered. iza buries part on the shoreline and carries the other home in that soft grey skin.
home. already? did she think of it?
the seal will feed her some days more. iza curls upon the single fur in the fresh den and answers sleep as quickly as all those nights which have passed and all those to come.
this early, pregnancy would not announce itself. shifting hormones do not yet grow her flanks. it is the strain of being alone, hunting solely for herself with whatever energy is left after her long hours of travel.
at last she comes to what seems the end of the world. to her right, the sea is a lapping void of salt.
to her right, a spill of forest clambering to rivershore and higher land.
no wolves.
thickening, the trees lacing overhead. iza follows a rivulet of water into the deepcast shadows.
in a coil of oak, she finds the sentiment of peace.
***
exploration is hard.
she is hungry.
***
excavation is harder.
she is hungrier.
***
iza cringes at the squawk of crows, harsh. unrelenting. but it is their feathered bodies which lead her to carrion beyond the edge of the forest, a dead seal not yet composing.
she fills her belly with the feverishness of desperation.
***
the seal is butchered. iza buries part on the shoreline and carries the other home in that soft grey skin.
***
home. already? did she think of it?
the seal will feed her some days more. iza curls upon the single fur in the fresh den and answers sleep as quickly as all those nights which have passed and all those to come.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »