Morningside Cuesta Act I, Scene I

Íkaros is impervious with hope. It strengthens him against her cool cynicism, that long ago saw her shed leisure for survival. This joy and expectation gleams in his eyes like a flame, and she knows it’s a sacred thing to be well tended before it is smothered by harsh realizations and dreams shattered.

She slinks forward and gives him a vigorous prod to the chest with her paw. “Tag.”

She bolts in the opposite direction.

Down through the hillock, trampling the lupines and beargrass, carving the veld in her flight.

But they were not playing tag. She had a different game in mind.