someday i am going
to walk out of here free
to walk out of here free
A
ngharad stops, or slows enough to feel like stopping, to look at a particularly bent-backed ocotillo backed up against the bright wall of the canyon. She ignores the voice that says to keep moving; the situation cannot possibly be so dire. The sky is silent overhead, and she is still a child, or most of one, and the world is still beautiful in a few small places -
Who is she to ignore that?
The ocotillo is strange and spidery. Its legs, a dark piney-green, are striated with little bumps and ridges, and each one spirals upward and curls and sprouts a cone of bright-red flowers and antenna. It reminds her of something she can’t quite remember - something vibrant and nearly aquatic - it smells bright and somehow dusty and the combination of that and the glaring sun pulls her almost to a sneeze. Everything is new, the plants, the sand, the towering walls - she wrinkles her nose, turns away and starts to walk again, watching the world carefully.
It is because of this caution (and the brief pause in her step) that she notices him.
She hears the sound of his steps clicking against the rock. The smell of something too-alive picked up by the wind. The nagging worry of a presence, faint as it is annoying, standing just beyond the edge of her vision. She inhales deeply, carefully, measured, and rolls her shoulders like she is preparing for a pounce.
Her ear flicks, and it jingles the little whip of gold circled around her horns.
Like a cat, Angharad ducks her head, snaps her tail against her back legs and turns a lazy half-circle, criss-crossing steps on the dusty red rock. She narrows her gaze and snakes it across the wide slit of the canyon. There he is - and she is surprised to see him looking like that, so small, so wasted away, but it at least it settles her nerves a little to realize she could feasibly fight back.
She raises her chin at him, standing on the ridge above like a bird of prey. Her horns spiral out, dark against the bright rock.
Aren’t you going to say hi? Angharad challenges, though it is almost pleasant, a twinge of humor bright in her voice.
@thana | "speaks" | notes: text
