there's nowhere left to fall; any

[Katarina]

your soul is able, death is all you cradle
sleeping on the nails, there's nowhere left to fall

Relief comes in the form of dappled sunlight through branches. as one lightly feathered foot follows after the other in a rhythmic heartbeat. The warm orbs of sun give her a wild appearance of leopard markings as her head hung low, brilliant green eyes observing the fall of a few weak brown leaves.

Loess is a quiet place and she had seen nor heard a word from the only horse she had met, Vulgaris. Did others exist here? Had the man abandoned the land? The scent of equines is always faint and passing as she picks her way through field and floral alike, the same thing every day.

Most birds have fled to warmer regions as winter was fast approaching but there is an eerie quietness that seemed to echo more loudly the last few weeks. Katarina is entrusting and suspicious. Something dangerous lingered just ahead. One hoof floated in the air as she has frozen mid stride, scenting the air with watchful seaglass eyes. "Hello." She utters the word as a statement and not a question, expecting a face to form in the broken sunlight of the autumn afternoon.

katarina

you have admired what every man desires
everyone is king when there's no one left to pawn