Lost Creek Hollow once i took your medication to know what it's like

for a woman who often spoke too much, there was nothing, at first, that came from wren's lips save for a soft moan laced still with sleep. the first thing she notices is the burning soreness that snaps and snarls within the meat upon her bones. the second thing she notices is that silvertongue, too, is awake, and that her head is tipped upward to the broad stretch of constellations.
do you ever see things in them? she asks, shuffling so that one paw may reach out toward her. always touching; always. like, shapes and shit. my ma always used to make up names for them.
with the paw exposed bitterly to the cold, she points to a string of three dimly lit stars, all in a row. that one she called the hunter.

apologies for the sudden lowercase i'm tryin it out LOL