Porcupine Ridge everything's a lie

His name on her tongue was like fire. The boy had never felt so warm, so fearful. He wanted to step from the shade of the brush and into her presence. He wanted to drink in the familiar scents of her pelt, the warmth of the herbs that had integrated with her very aroma. Antigone thought that this feeling might destroy him.

Meadow said that he was no fugitive, that they were worried for his safety. This only made him feel like a child. The boy was desperate for her to see him as anything else.

A single step drew him out of the brush and into the open. His eyes were wary upon the shadows behind her. The honey-warmth of her stare was fixed on him, cracking at the walls that he had hastily built in his retreat from the vale.

Meadow let’s leave, he said to her in a quiet voice. Let’s go somewhere else, somewhere new. Away from all of them. In just a few months he would be an adult and he could prove himself to her. They were not bound by Epoch! Antigone knew that if she allowed him to love her, he would show her nothing but care.