Golden Glade we climb and they descend

a boy.

she thought of any faces she had found handsome before. some recalled brought warmth to her cheeks but did not reach eyes. none of them had ever been dumb. she wanted to tell fox that she could do better than that, than a dumb boy.

why not a smart one? or a kind one? or one that might now how to survive and provide if ever there was a day forsythia couldn’t trail after her sibling?

all of it was too much to say but there was that distant, thoughtful look on her face. the one that had come the first time she’d seen her mother’s wounded neck. the look that now she wore whenever it came to family affairs.

dumb boys had it easier than children of sun and survival.

give him time. was her uttered wisdom now. another kiss to fox’s cheek before she swept aside to examine a rather unbecoming tangle of new vines. boys are always dumb longer than girls.

she hoped it might make fox laugh, that it might make things good between her and this boy.

have you kissed him?