even after they have been stepped on
He had to turn away, when he saw the way the trees leaned back into her when she leaned into them. Something sharp and painful and tasteless rises in his throat, and something burns behind his eyes. But he chokes it down, and forces his lips to curve into a smile even if he can’t meet her gaze. Again he thinks of how green her eyes are, green like ivy, and spring grass, and the forest; green like Somnus’ eyes, green like he wishes sometimes his were.
It had always seemed like all the best people had green eyes; and now that he can hear the desert in his sleep, and feel the sand against his cheek, he thinks he knows why his eyes were made red instead.
Maybe another day he would feel joy at knowing she was like him if only in magic. Maybe when the trees didn’t quake at the sight of him, and when he could stop thinking of the way a sapling both died and thrived before him, and the world began to feel right again. One day he wouldn’t have to ask her what the forest said to her, because he would know; and then they could sit and talk and laugh and he wouldn’t feel like a wolf that no one trusted to be around. One day, it was always one day, some day, never today. He had never been able to capture the future, as much as he chased it.
He nods, every movement shift, and sharp, and weighted. ”I will hold you to that,” he tells her, and there’s a heaviness to his voice that he hates, because it’s the same heaviness that makes his heart feel like it’s struggling to beat. ”And I hope you will remind me to do the same.”
He doesn’t tell her that a part of him is still afraid. Afraid that one day this new-found bravery will fail him, afraid that one day he’ll be able to close his eyes again every time he thinks he sees a monster stalking between the trees. Afraid that one day he might become that monster, the thing the forest needs protecting from. There are a thousand things he doesn’t say, even when the words are dancing on his tongue, and he thinks they might suffocate him if he doesn’t set them free.
He only swallows, and gestures towards the tree. There’s an entire forest to search still, and he knows better than to rest when there is work to be done. So he turns off the path, and tries to think like a killer without turning into one. And everything else around him is a blur as he returns to the hunt.
@Callynite
thought this was a good place to end it!
and I'm sorry this is so much shorter D:
"Speaking."
