Ravensblood Forest say you’re my lover, say you’re my homie

the gull wheels shoreward and minutes pass before she moves again; thinks again —

aware of an approaching storm she cannot see but can taste and smell and feel by the sulphur burning in her veins.

suddenly she’s back on shore: anathema’s voice pulling her from a place not even she knew the name.

she flinches as the sensations past; sand and salt and the whirling blur of anathema’s face swim in her vision.

she reaches to feel anathema’s face, confusion darkening her expression.

was it really her?