Bramblepoint diortosire

Hemera blinked slowly, the rustle of leaves filling the quiet space Towhee left behind. She didn’t follow, nor did she call after her; no sharp breath of indignation escaped her, no wounded pride stirred beneath her ribs. Only the soft furrow of her brow betrayed the tangle of thought within.
The woman’s words clung like mist; taken by the Lord. Hemera could not believe that; not truly. The Lord did not steal; her heart trembled beneath the weight of unspoken questions, but she held them close, swaddled in silence and faith. There were truths yet hidden beneath sorrow’s veil. She would not judge what she did not fully know.
Plum gaze watched Towhee vanish into the dark arms of the trees, the warning lingering behind her like a bitter psalm; stay away from the caldera. Hemera nodded once, not for Towhee, but for herself. A quiet vow.
Then, with a slow breath, she turned the other way. Her steps were soft, deliberate, her body light as moonlight as she slipped into the shadows, searching for stillness, for sleep, and perhaps, in dreams, for a sign.