Big Salmon Lake three

she wonders if his bones are still here, somewhere beneath the snow and ice. the girl stands on the lakeside, legs angled awkwardly beneath her; a new-born fawn standing for the first time. she squeezes shut her eyes. her dad had loved her. her brother loves her. and he's better, stronger now, and he's—

her fault. she should have stuck close to her father. if there'd been two of them, he could have had a chance. just like with her brother. he'd asked her to stay away, she'd listened. and then they had come and broken him into someone she'd not recognized. 

thoughts run wild, tempestuous now. she could not stop it if she tried, but truly, she needs this. she needs the violent swell of emotion, because without it there is only apathy, and she can not face that. she can not face the fact that she is unwanted by her maker. 

and then she'd left, again. and it that time her brother had become whole again — he was not the sibling she'd left. in her absence, he'd gotten better. in her absence. 

he doesn't need you. he's better off without you. can't you see? you're poison.