would roses bloom? isilme

[isilme]

isilme

steady as the stars in the woods

He came to her in a dream, first.
Isilme likes to fall asleep as a lion cub: on her back, belly exposed, carefree. In her dream she is alone, hunting, though she only ever catches bugs—beetles, caterpillars, and the occasional ladybug. They never taste good, but she is hopeful that one day they might, so she persists. In this dream, she is crouching, ready to pounce on a cornered squirrel, when she hears: Isilme.
The squirrel scampers away, and she turns around, annoyed. In front of her stands a small zebra. Isilme crouches again, ready to pounce—
and then she’s awake.

It seems silly: a zebra for a lion-girl.
But there he is, the next day, near a pond when Isilme stops for a drink, still in horse form. Why is this weird zebra following me, she thinks, before another thought enters her mind: because I am your companion. Just like your dad and his cat, we are bonded now.
She pauses, surprised, but only momentarily. I’m gonna call you Spot! she says excitedly.
My name is—
No, Isilme interjects. It’s Spot. Let’s go find my sister and show off.

She shifts into her lion cub form and leaps away, Spot trotting along behind her to keep up. It doesn’t take long for her to find her twin, tangled with a tiger, and jealousy washes over here. “Austra look at me!!!!” She says, tiny golden body leaping about before turning and facing Spot. “Spot, run! I’m gonna hunt you!” The zebra turns on his haunches, sprinting away, before Isilme takes off, looking behind her to see if her sister will follow.

careless and young, free as the birds that fly

tracker