Qeya River fear the others for eternity

slack-jawed, he looked at her like she was retarded. or maybe like the hole in his skull let all of his smart cells fall out. 

then he spoke.

the frosty distance in which she’d held all others dematerialized with this simple exchange of words. german. how sweet it was to have a piece of home with her now, although in some way, it felt like a threat to her personhood. 

her mother, he asks. if her parents could see her now, she thought they’d be so disappointed in the fucking idiot they had raised.

his question confirmed in her heart what she thought might be true: there was something between them. even if it had only been shared territory, perhaps she could sway at least one soul to her favor.

she pulled herself from the dirt to reveal the entirety of herself.

ilse was taller now than wylla, and yet still on the small side for an average adult female. the jagged whitecap on her back was a mystery, though the deep slate undercoat of her girlhood had warmed just slightly thanks to the contributions of her father.

the most telling feature of her heritage was where the echoes of her mother’s face set upon her own.

her name is wylla.