winter draped the forest in a hush, the evergreens standing vigilant beneath their heavy burden of snow. their thick boughs tangled together, warding off the worst of the season’s bite, but here and there, light speared through the canopy in pale, golden shafts. beneath them, the earth stirred in slumber, waiting.
kalyska moved through the hush with measured steps, her breath curling in the crisp air. her paws pressed gently against the frost-crusted ground, careful, deliberate. a good garden needed the right place—a place where the sun could reach, where the soil, though frozen now, would soften when the thaw came.
she hummed softly as she walked, the tune winding like a river through the trees, an old miwok song her mother used to sing. it carried no words, only the gentle rise and fall of melody, a song of growth, of hands tending life.
stopping in a small clearing where the snow was thinner, where the shadows parted just enough for light to stretch its fingers down, Kalyska paused. she scraped at the frost-kissed earth, thoughtful. this place could do. it would take time, but she would make something strong here—something lasting.
she straightened, gaze sweeping the trees, as if the forest itself might give its blessing. the wind stirred, and she closed her eyes for just a moment, letting it carry her song away into the hush of winter.
kalyska moved through the hush with measured steps, her breath curling in the crisp air. her paws pressed gently against the frost-crusted ground, careful, deliberate. a good garden needed the right place—a place where the sun could reach, where the soil, though frozen now, would soften when the thaw came.
she hummed softly as she walked, the tune winding like a river through the trees, an old miwok song her mother used to sing. it carried no words, only the gentle rise and fall of melody, a song of growth, of hands tending life.
stopping in a small clearing where the snow was thinner, where the shadows parted just enough for light to stretch its fingers down, Kalyska paused. she scraped at the frost-kissed earth, thoughtful. this place could do. it would take time, but she would make something strong here—something lasting.
she straightened, gaze sweeping the trees, as if the forest itself might give its blessing. the wind stirred, and she closed her eyes for just a moment, letting it carry her song away into the hush of winter.
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plainsong - by Kalyska - February 10, 2025, 01:53 AM