Deepwood Weald arctocephalus

his question burned the air.

where did they go?

it burned to hear it, to register any thought that hinted at an answer. sulukinak did not want to remember.

where?

he called her close and opened up in a way that reminded her of when her mother was loving; but she saw in her memory the red of the blood painted across that once lovely face, and looked away from it with a flinch - away from dutch too where the feeling bordered reality.

after a moment sulukinak folded in among his arms and rested there. she would not tell him.