Sun Mote Copse bruises

Things were cyclical in Weejay’s life, and she was just now coming to see it. Her mother had died, and Eljay stepped forward to fill that strangely shaped hole. When her brother disappeared and left his own mark on Eljay’s heart, Weejay had stepped forward in turn. Her interest in the garden had waned, while Eljay’s had only doubled — soon she might find their roles reversed, but for now it was hard to look at anything optimistically.

Weejay had been trying to sleep when she heard her father call for her. Blinking back what little snatches of slumber she’d managed, Weejay stood up sleepily. Hi Daddy. The yearling mumbled, voice hoarse with tiredness but layered by warmth.