Redtail Rise if a stupid poem could fix this home

she couldn't articulate what it was she was searching for, not even to herself — an end to the longing she felt in every one of her cells, perhaps. sadhbh only knew that she could not spend another moment in that den, fending for herself, careful to erase any sign of her existence. she did not know what she longed for, only that the ache lessened with each step she put between herself and the forest in which her mother had raised her.

as a pup, she had heard so much about the world — memorized abstract explanations of the wider world, tales layered with meanings and lessons. but she had seen none of it except for what existed in the small space she was permitted to inhabit. and so she had also learned every inch of the forest and how each leaf changed with the seasons. when that grew tiresome, sadhbh found her next love in the ever changing sky and stars.

but now— but now, she had made her world so much larger. she was hungry to learn every inch of it. to live the knowledge that had been dictated to her in low, hushed words. to find her own meaning and her own lessons. for the moment, however, sadhbh was content to merely exist in it.

she trailed at the base of the rise, breathing in the wind, drinking in the foreign landscape.