Heron Lake Plateau to walk a path of slaughter

stone steps led her north to a plain. the heat of midday singed the very air. she was not deterred by it, seeking shelter beneath a lonely cypress gripping the stone wall.
fresh water invites her close. as she drinks she closes her eyes, unwilling to look at herself even for a moment.
a habit born of grief.

the hum of hidden cicadas lulls satsu in to a state of mu. it does not last, for as she tries to savor it she tastes the old hurt.

copper in the water—
father !

she gasps and opens her eyes, sputtering, losing the stillness within.