some memories never leave your bones.
like the salt in the sea; they become a part of you
- you carry them.
like the salt in the sea; they become a part of you
- you carry them.
Today the air drifts in from the mountains. It pulls snow from the white caps with it and the flakes swirl down, light as dandelion seeds, to melt onto the verdant plane below. The wind carries, not just snow, but a boy too. He sweeps in, agile as a bird and light as a deer. The wild curls of his mane tangle ever more in the breeze, twining tighter around twigs and leaves.
The boy follows the swirling down draughts and dips to the open meadow. The mountains from which he came grow lilac in the background. They dominate the sky behind Leonidas and he lands like a phoenix - all warm golds and fiery copper.
Babbling water follows the meandering path of the creek. Leonidas wastes no time stepping into the water. He wades out, knowing the place he stops, where the water is strangely deeper and the trees rise taller beside the widening stream.
The water leaves him, carrying with it dust and dirt and all the kinds of things that wild-wood boys find pressed into their skin at the end of the day. He bathes. And at one blink he is a boy and at the next a forest king with his brace of antlers a gleaming crown atop his head. The vines, the wild flowers and the tangling leaves are all earthen jewels and decorations to his crown. The boy is nearly a man and the two combine as a gleam shimmers in his eye as he stills… still as a stag. A solitary ear twists toward the bank. His moment of quiet, rapt attention is gone as he continues bathing, water sluicing from his wings that dip below the water. Unwise, he thinks, briefly, when his end has come to watch him from atop the bank.
His head turns at last, aquiline eyes, gold as the sun, catching her like talons. “You are too early, Little Death. I think you will only be disappointed by me.”
@Isolt
