Meadowlark Prairie ojirojika

if it were possible for satsu to become beet-red, she would have. her cheeks were warm, her throat burned, she felt the flux of her very lungs as his words came; so much like pharaoh in that moment that she thought of his golden body instead of the stranger, which only made her feel worse.

hurrying and spider-like, satsu dismounted from the poor stranger. she was so flustered, and yet still trying to apologize with half-uttered declarations of gomen and hontōni gomen'nasai among others.

pacing for a minute, she shook out her thin furs and then stopped to crouch and bow her head, looking more like a relief of a wolf made of stone than a living thing. satashi wa sokode anata ni aimasendeshita— it all flowed effortlessly from across her tongue. satsu was unaware of her slip backwards in time to the language of her father, sensing only the immense awkwardness and shame of such a rude meeting.