Sleepy Fox Hollow Took this dagger in me and removed it

phaedra sucked her breath, gaze searching the sunpunch of her mother’s own. what she found there was not the fierce arc of a soul aflame, only something smoky, wan

— and her consciousness dawned and set upon a horizon of understanding now.  

empathy replaced wariness. what had drawn her mother’s spirit into such age? 

nose scrunching: it was i

oh god. i should have gone with you. 

phaedra felt as if she had been shrunk ten sizes smaller. oh, how she hated herself right then.

ashamed, the child presently turned a tendrilly cheek, walling off fell emotion rising to belabour her presence of mind. she favored the partite leaves with a glance, shifting to face her father and taking numbly her task anew with eyes dropping, peering at the heap pushed before her.

her sensibilities were set upon by a sudden rebellion (what’s more, with a lurch of her gut, the realization that she was hungry [alas, for something more satisfying than leaves]). 

amid crouching ears wheeled offput thoughts. the vierte did not think she so much merited her role as medicineman’s daughter based on her mislike of the task at hand, but nonetheless brought the berries to her lips, then plucked them between foreteeth. 

well, it’s not altogether terrible, she thought, ruby juices dribbling down her chin. she counted sixty stars in her head as her mouth mortar'd and pestled the sweet red fruits, until it was a pulp on her tongue. 

she stepped over to where wylla presumably reposed, looking once to her father for any measure of encouragement before kneeling down alongside the stricken woman. she took care in poulticing the angry lacerations, startled at once by the heat against her tongue. she packed it as gently but as quickly as she was able, then backed away with a troubled brow.

 

“wir können sie nicht hierlassen," phaedra said at last. 

“sie muss nach hause gekommen. she must." 

or i must stay was a decision left yet unspoken.