Wapun Meadow thus always to tyrants

he was annoyed at her charge. she’d erred, but the embarrassment from before still shed its glow. and he’d not even given his name. 

“i asked you first,” she huffed back. faint scents of bear musk and dried clover clung to her senses. when had she gotten within sniffing distance? phaedra willed this unconscious impetus to stop! by firmly planting her feet. but the vespers of her stare lingered on the stripling, the grim set to his mouth.

a red child. his? what did it matter? phaedra blinked. lifting her leg to look beneath herself, eyes ran down the length of her body as if she might find a little fugitive crouching there. 

“no,” she answered, unduly defensive of her honor as if she had been caught in a lie. but he could describe indra from her coloring down to her instep and phaedra would still not appreciate them as details belonging to the daughter of laurel.

recognizing how on-edge she felt, she took a breath, restoring her presence of mind. pale ears repositioned themselves sensibly. “unless by red you mean ‘red like a white rabbit’ in which case, they jumped into that hole”—she gestured at the tree cave from which her re-birth had taken place—“i'm sure it's fine.”

not my problem. now turn.

turn, bestie. 

turn your body and walk away.

turn. around. and….

“though if you're playing a game, i believe your question qualifies as cheating, pal,” she smirked, clearly removed from the gravity of his situation.