Wapun Meadow and I've got one foot in the door

eulie dawn didn’t flinch when he moved, didn’t stir when he laughed without humor. she only blinked slow, like a cat in the sun, her body soft and boneless where she lay amid the wild tangle of grass and berry bramble. her tail flicked once, a lazy thing. her eyes followed him—somber, golden-brown, and far too knowing for how soft her voice sounded when she finally answered.
ain’t hard to spot a man bein’ followed, she said gently. especially when he walks like the ghost is bigger than he is.
she plucked another berry and rolled it between her teeth before swallowing it whole.
don’t reckon i’m here for much more than you are, eulie dawn mused, not quite smiling, not quite sad. quiet suits me. birds don’t ask questions. river don’t care what i done.
a pause. her gaze flicked toward him again, sharper now. but you ain’t done enough bad to deserve bein’ eaten alive by it. the way she said it—matter-of-fact, as if she’d measured his sins in the way he carried his shoulders, the cracks in his voice—left little room for argument.
me, i’m lookin’ for something that probably don’t exist. she shrugged, dreamlike. a place where the air don’t taste like regret. maybe a tree that don’t drop its fruit ‘fore it’s ripe.
she leaned back on her side, eyes half-lidded.
maybe i’m just waitin’ for someone to point the way.