Qeya River Sing for the hill

he snorted and she met it with warm laughter. for a moment, she was not scared of being heard. she had no fear in this small space between them. she could live in this and find comfort. distract herself from the endless cycle of sleeping and recovering.

she did not miss that he liked senka better.

she kept it close to her heart. a place that had become stone and ice. warmed only by pieces of kinder days.

he had been remade as sheep killer. she tries to picture him as this, this thing. she called him being so quick footed in their chase when she first met him. perhaps he could be so nimble a hunter, but she had not seen him with blood until so recently. even then it had not been the blood of a sheep.

it is like he lived in her somehow. her features are always, heavily, tired but she smiled with fondness. leaned in closer (as if she could) so that she could whisper only for his ears.

you will always be ksura. no one can take that from us.

and i can always be senka, for you.