Totoka River compose a poem, an honest verse of longing

anyone want to hear a star story?

The Totoka River had not been kind to her, but Ravensblood Forest was worse. Olive had been confined to the woods for so long, healing her wounds and begging for forgiveness from any family member that would hear it and now the confines crushed her and she found herself [once again] craving a location fresh and new. A place where she was not constantly reminded of her mistakes and the tension that continued to wrack her family. Teaghlaigh had grown in numbers since their return and while this was soothing to the ragged woman's anxiety of Arturo's [empty] threat, the extra presences within the bleeding forest felt ominous and oppressive. The filly wanted peace, stillness, silence of both voice and thought; and amongst strangers, this was not possible.

So when she was healed enough to move, the vagabond stole away in the night to visit the river that flowed strongly through their forest and rushed towards the sea. It was the farthest she dare go; for she moved gingerly and delicately and, in all honesty, quite slowly — but Olive need not travel far to experience the benefits of a nice jaunt. Olive planted herself next to the river’s edge and dipped her pale lips to the water to drink. The waters which one placated the infection of her ankle now slaked her thirst and she silently thanked the river for allowing her such a reprieve. The cold water rushed to her belly and the life within her stirred. Olive felt the swimming in her stomach and turned her head to look at how her sides swelled out, sitting prominently and heavily on her gamine frame. Olive knew her time was soon, but Olive relished these last few weeks as well as the glow she felt radiate out from within her. Pregnancy was becoming to Olive and the druid seemed to be nurtured from the closeness of her children. It was a wondrous thing, how her body created life. It was the epitome of womanly experiences and she enjoyed feeling the influx of feminine hormones. Though her body was still torn and her silky fur was still sticky from all of the sheepdog’s healing salves and poltices, Olive felt strong and divine and part of something much larger than herself  … and honestly, she felt pretty sexy, too. 

After drinking her fill, Olive sat and looked up at the night sky. The stars shone brightly, although the sky was becoming continually more clouded and veiled with the oncoming spring season — the season of her children’s birth. Silently Olive began to calculate the positions of certain constellations and where they fell on her map of the night sky, tried to read what laid ahead for her, her husband, her children and her family. There the fae sat for some time, moving her mouth in the silent repetition of star’s names and bathed in the strong energies and gentle pull of the same moonlight that strongly reflected in the swimming of her peridot gaze.