cold in the violence after the war
hope is a fire to keep us warm
It’s tempting, at times, the thought of leaving home. Of letting her feet find new, untrodden earth and never looking back. But she knows she would never leave. Beqanna has too much of a hold on her. Too many friends and family and memories all wrapped irrevocably together. She is not nearly so duty bound as her mother or tied to past heartaches as her father, but she is still tied here all the same.
Besides, she could never leave Dagen. She is not complete without her twin. Could never imagine going through life without him.
She is idly watching the trees when the sound of hoofsteps draws her attention. She straightens, blinking as she realizes she’d been leaning against the tree for some time already. The raw edges of skin where new bone had been erupting through had dried, and her movement causes the tender skin to crack once more, fresh trickles of blood oozing along bone and staining the damp, red and white of her coat. The salt of her sweat stings, reminding her of what had drawn her here.
All of which she ignores, as she has done a hundred times before. For her, the crack of skin and trickle of blood has become an every day fact of life. A dark consequence of the protective cage of bone forming around her body.
One day it would no doubt kill her. But she refuses to dwell on what-if’s and one-day’s.
Her blue gaze jumps to the woman even now emerging through the trees, curiosity evident behind the mask of bone that shades them. The stranger had noticed her, offering a soft, kindly greeting. She seems to hesitate in her approach, but Brazen has no such inhibitions. A friendly, easy smile is already curving her lips as she steps forward, as boldly trusting as the newcomer seems cautiously uncertain.
“Hello!” she returns, her voice bright in the hushed forest air. She cocks her head slightly at her new companion’s question, not entirely certain how to answer. “You know, I’m not sure,” she replies after a moment’s consideration before continuing with a soft half-laugh. “Happy accident, I suppose.”
Behind the fearsome facade of bone, her features are friendly, gentle, almost, despite the imposed ferocity. “I’m Brazen,” she offers in return, smile teasing her lips. “Would you like some company while you figure things out? I can’t promise I’ll be much help,” she laughs self-deprecatingly at that, “but I can probably make things more interesting.”
Brazen
