the wind rolled over the ridge like a beast dragging its belly across stone, and drífa moved with it—low to the ground, limbs lean and patient. she had not spoken in days. not since the last kill. not since the man with the sea-glass eyes and the weight of something broken behind his name.
her paws stirred frostbitten moss, the thaw of early spring seeping into the bone of the land, but not hers. she was still winter. in her body, in her gaze. a creature carved from the permafrost and fed on silence.
a raven followed her that morning. two crows, by noon. she took it as omen. or company. or neither. drífa did not ask for signs. she read them. in claw marks, in snowmelt patterns, in the rhythm of prey gone too still.
by dusk, her breath steamed like prayer in the cold.
her paws stirred frostbitten moss, the thaw of early spring seeping into the bone of the land, but not hers. she was still winter. in her body, in her gaze. a creature carved from the permafrost and fed on silence.
a raven followed her that morning. two crows, by noon. she took it as omen. or company. or neither. drífa did not ask for signs. she read them. in claw marks, in snowmelt patterns, in the rhythm of prey gone too still.
by dusk, her breath steamed like prayer in the cold.
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Where you told me you were leavin' from - by Drífa - April 21, 2025, 04:34 PM
RE: Where you told me you were leavin' from - by Leifa - April 23, 2025, 04:25 PM