The Heartwood Tréximo

three days.
breath hitched in her throat. chickadee nodded, unsure what she would do or say. dwin had already prevailed upon her to stay until summer, and she had agreed.
but antigone, antigone with his burning eyes and his hood of blood, he had spoken to her on a level the blackthorn had not been ready to comprehend.
"okay."
her voice was small, thoughtful. when the boy left for home, she would too, meandering until she found the borders of brecheliant.