Stavanger Bay move along, move along

when sobeille first saw treepie that day, she’d prepared for battle. even then, she hadn’t been prepared for how deeply this would sting.

maybe it was because like the total sum of revolving characters in her life, treepie left like they all did. sobeille’s jaw clenched as she watched treepie retch again, this time coming up with an eye steeped in provocative red.

her gut turned, the unnameable emotion fighting its way from her throat known at last to her. treepie’s bloodshot vein, spread like crimson lightning across an otherwise violently yellow sky, served only to hasten it. this, she knew, was dangerous —  a mistake she would not be able to claw back from loomed sinisterly above them both.

for a moment longer she studied the bloodspill in treepie’s eye with raw hunger. taking great effort to break away, sobeille snorted and abruptly turned her back on the wolf that, by her approximation, had done the same to her months ago.

and that missed opportunity for reconciliation — which she felt flutter by like the breath of a ghost — dissipated into the cold wind of the bleak stavanger shore. treepie’s name would join the ranks of other ghosts of sobeille’s past; just another notch in the endless list of those who’d left her to die.


and this time, sobeille would own it.