The Bracken Woods She

Someone called her name. Masquerade bristled, halting in her tracks and squinting in the direction of her brother’s voice. Why was he here? She wasn’t ready to talk to anyone yet. She needed time to process, work out some of these feelings for herself. She had given so much of herself to him, to the others, to the rise. Couldn’t they give her a moment’s peace?

She called to mind the image of Mulherin nuzzling Redd. Hurt and jealousy speared through her. It didn’t even make sense. If he hadn’t paid his respects to the new Wealda, Masquerade would’ve insisted. His quick fealty was a good thing. Why, then, did that vision haunt her? Why did it crack open her heart?

Masque did not respond to his call. She did not move. She remained rooted to the spot, trembling.