every pearl is a lynx, is a girl
sweet like harmony made into flesh
sweet like harmony made into flesh
For an actual century, Sno has lurked the hills, valleys, mountains, caves, riversides, - all of it. Every inch of what Beqanna was back in her young days, until now. Quietly, she’s lingered, never making much of a big deal of herself. She made some friends here and there, took a few lovers along the way – mothering three children who are long dead now. Her heart has seen many woes, and many blessings. There are no scars on her skin (except the one), but there is a plethora of them stretched across her soul like a map of her life.
The Field – she flies upon it with a wide, happy grin. What a place. She makes a few circles and lands on a small crest in the land. The sun is rising and the fog is clearing away from the grassy hillsides. She knows there are plenty of predators here, and she intends to let one find her. It’s been 50 or so years since she’s been here, in this position, looking to be snagged from the net like a salmon.
What was Beqanna’s magical folk up to, anyhow? Who was on top? Anyone burning the forests and overtaking thrones? Or was it quiet? Lately she has not paid much attention to the politics – for what, probably, the last 100 years…anyway…ha! She knows much of the land is different, but how about the citizens?
She intends to test the waters.
no icicle isle, taiga, or pampas - i have babies in all those places already ❤
it's a marvelous night for a moondance..