The Heartwood primadonna girl

"neo," the coy repeats, amused by the simplicity of it though she doesn't quite know whether she thinks it suits him or not. unlike she, the ash-made-boy was born here, made of the very earth they sat on now - more excitingly he wants to know about life outside of this place, which he calls the teekon. witchbaby hums to herself, arranging herself into storyteller for her rapt audience. "endless," she breathes, "an' full of possibilities. i left my folks real young 'cause i wanted to see - everything." here the girl barks a laugh, casting her gaze around the ruined forest. "but that's the problem with possibilities, y'know, they ain't all brilliant. think i'll stick 'round here for a bit instead." it is not that she is hesitant to tell a stranger her story - au contraire, witchbaby's natural shape is open-mouthed and forward - but she has not talked to another soul about her dear since before they were parted by mother nature's most cruel punishments, and she does not know how to start, how to weave it into something narrative. well - she thinks this neo would rather her describe the shape of the stars in faraway lands than the stars in kinkajuú's eyes for a start. her smile has withered somewhat on the last few lines, but she watches the boy as intently as before, returning the ball to his court. "what's it like in the teekons?"