Dragoncrest Cliffs the stars are blazing

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The words played through his head so many times that he almost believed them to be true, nearly having been sucked into his own lie. Able to rein himself back in, the yearling straightened out his posture and stared forward, hoping for something that might tell him his words were believable; given his initial meeting with the child, he felt confident that she’d created enough of trouble prior to his arrival that would allow for his accusation to stick. Whilst unease brewed within his stomach and sought to twist it around, he refused to acknowledge the likelihood of being found out as a liar. Yet, as he witnessed the rise of the woman’s fur—he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t something worth getting worked up over but, unsurprisingly, he did anyways—he couldn’t help but begin to accept the numerous other possibilities, thus abandoning his preferred outcome. No longer certain, the fur of his crest began to raise, loosely mimicking the Heda.

Given a chance to turn away from his lie, he wondered—briefly—if perhaps he should alter his statement. In the end, he nodded and said, “She bothers me, but Kendra, too.” Although his lie had been remolded, changed into a simple half of its former shame, it was still just as it had originally been: a lie. He could not speak the entire truth, not when he had committed himself already to that which he had concocted. Then, as if he’d not yet spoken enough, the Inuk dug himself deeper into a hole, saying, “She only wants to be with me, but Eske won’t leave her alone.” Perhaps the statement, though undoubtedly untrue, was a glimpse at the reality he hoped to live in. A world where, despite everything, Kendra was at his side and happy, rather than off making friends with some girl that he found to be naught more than unbearable.

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