• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    Be still, and listen to your heart [Roselin]
    #1

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    The forest had become more and more familiar as each day passed. Mother took me all over the place, showing me things that were both miraculous and intriguing. We often visited the burn scar, where we had discovered that I shared her gift of flora revival. And what Borderline hadn’t shown me, Yanhua had. He had shown me the meadow where him and mother had first met. He had shown me the den where they had fallen in love. And what they didn’t show me, Amarine’s twins and I explored together. So, by now, I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on most of Taiga, and I sometimes found myself wandering (with mother’s permission) on my own.

    The air was growing cooler by the day, and I was beginning to show signs of a fuzzy winter coat growing in. Today was a warmer day, still holding on to some remnant of summer, and I had taken to wandering. The forest is alive. Birds bounce from the branches of trees high above my head. I pass by the meadow where mother and father had first met where a herd of elk graze on the grasses, still green from the warmer months. No doubt they were trying to fatten up before the winter, when food would be scarce, limited to the dead grasses that need to be sifted out from beneath the snows. Butterflies still flit from early fall flowers that bloom along the path. It all makes me feel so alive.

    I am no longer afraid of the big world around me, as I’d been when I went searching for Yanhua that first day. Now I knew my way around. As I step boldly along the path, I listen to the sounds around me: birds calling back and forth, a small brook babbling just off the path, and my hooves thumping a gentle beat against the worn earth. I pass by a fallen tree with two branches that have grown into trees of their own, stretching up toward the sunlight that dapples the forest floor. I stop for a moment to admire the spectacle. Something about it, about the way life grows from death, is beautiful and amazing. The redwoods always had something new and exciting for me to find.

    After a moment, I continue on my way. This isn’t aimless wandering, for there were names and faces within Taiga that I had yet to meet, and one in particular made me quite curious. Grandma had mentioned her to mother on our midnight rendezvous at the beach. They hadn’t realized that a small part of me had kept an ear tipped their way the whole time, so I was able to hear most of what they said between each other, despite the waves crashing up on the beach. Now I was curious. I was curious about the garden. What even is a garden?

    Every once in a while, I stop and lift my head, as if looking to see over the understory around me, but I wasn’t looking so much as feeling. Father had taught me about my gift; empathic echoes, he had called it. It came in handy now. I reach out into the distance with it, looking for remnants of memories. I could see glimpses of happy memories from birds joyfully singing above me, but that is not what I want to see. I could see fragments from the contended elk in the nearby meadow, but those aren’t what I want to see, either. Finally, I touch on a brief flash of a happy memory from another young filly. Was this her? I wondered. I move on, holding on to the residue of the memory until I round a corner, and there she was. 

    “Hi!” I say, brightly. I give her a soft smile. “Are you @[Roselin]?”

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash
    Smile
    Reply
    #2
    Roselin tried to follow her mother as best she could.

    But the truth was Lilliana was everywhere and anywhere at any given time. If she wasn't patrolling the borders of Taiga, she was looking after Reave. If she wasn't looking after Reave, she was with Rosey and Oren. If the twins managed to secure some time on their own, Oren went off exploring and Roselin was free to do as she pleased.

    What she really wanted to do was create a garden. The silver-black filly had grown up with stories about sunflowers. There is an aunt, she knows, somewhere out in the Beyond. She grows them, is what Lilliana had explained. Somewhere out there was a golden aunt who grew golden flowers and Roselin liked the way her mother's face changed when she told that story; the way it becomes so impossibly full of light, like she had could transform into the sun itself.

    She doesn't have that kind of ability though. What Roselin can do is freeze and trace the leaf-covered ground with a light layer of frost. Her father tells her that one day she will be able to do more with it but as is the way with youth, she is far too impatient for it. She wishes that she could craft glaciers and icicles and blizzards now, like Leilan. She sighs and a silver tendril of ice-smoke comes dancing from her dark nostrils. For a moment, it becomes something more and a few snowflakes emerge.

    Elated, Rosey laughs.

    It isn't a glacier. But it's a start, she thinks. Unaware that she has left a memory behind, Roselin travels down a Taigan trail and starts moving towards the small copse of trees that she knows Reave and Oren both tend to gravitate towards. There is the sound of a twig breaking behind her and Rose looks back, expecting to find one of her brothers. It isn't them but the smaller filly resembles one of them. Roselin turns around to face the little chestnut (and there is a twinge of envy in her chest for the coloring; Rosey is dark where the rest of her siblings seem fire-marked). "I am," she admits with shy smile. "Who are you?"

    ROSELIN
    html by castlegraphics; art by Calcifer


    @[Memorie]
    Reply
    #3

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    I’ve always been observant of others. I guess I had learned to always pay attention because mother had needed me, in more ways than one. I have always kept an ear tipped toward any conversation around me. I have always paid attention to all the physical signs of emotions, rather than relying on my empathic echoes, though that helped as well. I have even paid attention to how others act when they’re together. This is why I know so much about the lives of those who surround me.

    What I don’t know how to do is pay attention to silly little things like the rocks and twigs and leaves beneath my hooves. I’m constantly tripping over rocks and roots and other obstacles in my path. That’s why I didn’t even notice when I stepped on a twig and snapped it. I’m not going for stealth. I’m not aiming to surprise. So I care little about where my hooves land.

    What I do care about is that Roselin gives me a shy kind of smile. It softens her, makes her more approachable. Initially, it’s hard to see the resemblance she shares with Lilliana. While Lilliana is a chestnut (like father and myself), Roselin is a unique shade of black (a color I secretly find myself longing for). But the more I look at her, the more I can see my grandmother in her. It wasn’t just in her overall structure and fine features, but she shares the same kind of air about her.

    I am so caught up in my thoughts that I almost forget to respond to the other filly. I shake my head with a soft laugh on my lips. “Sorry, I’m Memorie. I’m your niece.” It felt kind of weird saying that, because this filly wasn’t much older than I am. In fact, she’s younger than her brother who is my father. My head spins a little at this. “That sounds a little awkward.” I laugh. “Well, I’m Yanhua’s daughter.” I quickly realize that she might already know this (Taiga was big, but it wasn’t so big that word didn’t travel around), so I add on, “in case you didn’t already know.”

    But I didn’t come here to make things awkward. I had come out of curiosity to see this garden grandma had mentioned to mother. I’m not going to lie, this kind of thing intrigued me. Did she have a gift like mine and mother’s? Granted, we could only help grow plants that were already there, so it’s not like I could just start my own garden. Could Roselin have even stronger gifts than mother’s and mine? Or did she have a green thumb? I certainly didn’t know the first thing about planting a garden. “I heard you have a garden,” I say, trying not to sound too excited, but a little bit of that excitement edges its way into my voice nonetheless.

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash
    Reply
    #4
    It's been explained to her (a few times now) about their family dynamic. Lilliana never goes into the specifics but Roselin understands enough that her elder brothers have children of their own and that they also fall into this wide berth of family that seems to encompass almost every horse living in Taiga. Nashua has pale twins whose mother likes to keep them more towards the craggy Nerinian border. Yanhua has a set as well but they are not white and she can't quite remember if they have wings or stripes or spots.

    And then Lilliana had mentioned that there was another - a filly born outside of Yan's twins. (It might have sparked a deeper flame of curiosity within the silver-black girl if not for Reave, her younger brother who had been born in the same season as all the other Taigalings. The chestnut tobiano had been born without a twin and so Roselin realizes that not everybody comes into the world in pairs. It's still an oddity for her to think that her own mother doesn't have one.)

    This filly - with her flaxen mane, her blue eyes, the start of two small nubs where horns like her father will someday emerge - is very clearly the daughter of Yanhua. Rosey sees it all staring kindly back at her and the yearling stretches her neck out so that the younger girl could greet her, if she wished it. When she pulls back, Rosey is smiling. "You look like him," she says and the warmth coming from her voice means that she implies this as a compliment. Of her two older brothers (not that she will ever admit to having a favorite), it has always been Yanhua who has played along with her games and nurtured her hopes of someday bringing a garden to Taiga. There is nobody in her little world quite like him.

    (Oren participates from time to time but then Taiga is a big wood filled with wild wonders and it seems hard for her twin to focus on just one thing.)

    Rosey, happy with the explanation of who the horned filly is, continues: "I tried meeting Lumi and Ellie the other day but then I found a small meadow of lupines." Her mind grows full of the flowers -  an abundance of pink and white and purple dancing in a spring breeze  - and sighs. "They are Nash's daughters," she adds, realizing that Memorie might not who she is speaking of.

    She can almost recall their light, lovely scent. By the time she had left, it had been getting dark and she knew that the visit would have to wait for another day. Her mother didn't like her youngest children out past twilight and Roselin tried her best to follow that rule. It helped that as soon as Lilliana left for her routine patrols after dusk, Leilan - her father -  came. "They are Nash's daughters," she adds, realizing that Memorie might not know who she is speaking of. (Does she know who Nashua is?)

    Roselin brightens at the thought and tilts her head curiously, watching as @[Memorie] asks about her garden. The smile on Roselin's dark face beams because this endeavor is one that she is coming to love. "Not yet," she admits with a touch of yearning. "I can't grow but I've been trying to find flowers to bring to Taiga." She explains and then elaborates with a puff of ice-smoke from her petite nostrils. It twinkles prettily in the spring sunshine before it dissipates, taking the winter coldness away with it.

    "Would you like to help?"

    ROSELIN


    apologies for this being a bit... everywhere lol
    Reply
    #5

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    Mother had missed the twin train this go around, ending up with just me, her one daughter. So I didn’t have the same kind of realization that not all foals come in pairs, though I did understand that it was quite common in the world of Beqanna. After all, I’d met my half-siblings, who were twins, I knew that Roselin was twin to Oren, father had told me of his twin, and I’d also heard of Nashua’s twin daughters–though I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting either of them. One day I might have to venture my way out toward the Nerinian border to seek them out, but for now, I was thoroughly entertained by the filly that stood before me.

    As @[Roselin] stretches her neck out toward me, I recognize the gesture as a greeting, so I eagerly reach forward as well, brushing my nose against hers. It felt good to connect with a fellow family member. I return the smile, which brightens up my features in a way that only an innocent child could manage.

    When she mentions that I look like my father, I can’t help but throw my head into the air and prance in place for a second in excitement. I could only have looked more like him if my tail was the same flaxen color as his (well, that and the golden marking upon his chest), and I was definitely proud of that, though I do wish my mane matched my tail. I’d love to look more like mother in that way, but alas, I’d been born with just the tail matching hers. Perhaps, someday, I would go on a quest to change that, but for now, I was happy to keep just the tail. “Thank you!” I say in response, clearly proud to show off the resemblance.

    Lumi and Ellie, she says, and I recognize the short nicknames for Nashua’s twins, though she makes sure to add on that they belong to him. I, of course, knew who Nashua was. I hadn’t yet met him, but father had told me about him, as well as shown me happy memories from when they were children as well as adults (so I would recognize him if I ever did meet him). Just mentioning them, though, makes me long to meet them as well. I add that to my mental checklist of things to do before I grow old, like mother and father. Youth was the time to explore and make new friends, after all! Well, at least that’s how I feel about it now, but there would probably definitely come a time when I think differently, as I cannot stop the progression of aging, and I’m sure I would still be this wonder-filled mare that loves to explore and travel.

    Instead of asking about Nashua’s twins, I tilt my head at the mention of lupines. I’d explored a fair bit of the redwoods, and I knew a few names for the plants that grew here (such as the ferns that sprouted between the trees), but I hadn’t yet heard of lupines (though perhaps I’ve seen them). “Lupines?” I ask, and you could hear the curiosity in my voice.

    It is slightly disappointing to hear that Roselin has yet to build her garden, but the beaming grin on her face brings an excitement that overshadows the disappointment. When she mentions that she can’t grow, I get a bit antsy, shifting my weight from one side to the other so that my hooves do this kind of little dance without ever leaving the ground. Oh, oh, I can grow things, I wanted to say, but she puffs out a breath of icy air, which intrigues me, before asking if I could help. “I would love to!” I practically squeal in delight. “Mama and I both have the gift of flora revival, so I can help grow whatever you bring to Taiga! Oh, and dad and Amarine are leaving for a quest soon to bring new flora and fauna to Taiga as well. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash
    Reply
    #6
    Memorie brushes against her dark maw and the silver-black yearling filly smiles gently. She is almost the mirror-image of Yanhua and Rosey can see her older brother in the beaming face of the other girl. It makes her wonder who she looks like, that when she tilts her head this or that by the stream, will she find Leilan or Lilliana looking back at her?

    Roselin decides she would just rather look like herself.

    Neither are of her parents are dark-coated (though her mother explained once that she resembled an Uncle - Alvaro, was what she said his name was. Roselin sometimes wonders if she pulled her ebony coloring from her father's tattoos). Many of her siblings sport flaxen manes - like the one that is golden and gleaming in curling tufts along Memorie's slender neck - but even hers is brighter than theirs; Rosey's mane is as white as newly-fallen snow.

    "Do you do the thing that he does?" Rosey asks, suddenly curious. Her mother's gift had manifested in a few of her siblings - most notably Yan - and it made her curious if the trait had started to bloom in this latest generation. Her ebony head tilts, revealing a small star that normally remains hidden beneath her pale forelock. "I used to tease Mama and call it ghost-talking." The yearling shares with her, "but she says she can't see ghosts. Just things that have already... happened?"

    Lilliana's daughter starts to move down the trail that she had originally been traveling but glances behind her, waiting to see if Memorie would elaborate. Maybe it was different for the younger girl.

    One small ear pricks forward and Rosey grins at the question posed to her. "Lupines," she says again. Has Memorie never seen them? Something in her grows delighted at the thought because Roselin knows exactly where they grow. She focuses and tries to imagine the flowers as she had seen them the day before in hopes that @[Memorie] might catch a glimpse of them. The clearing that she had discovered them was a bit of a journey but the sun was still rising and Roselin assumed they both had a few hours before they would have to return to their respective resting places. "Okay!" says Roselin. "We'll start with the little meadow I found and I can show you the lupines." The girl explains to her new traveling partner.

    The white-maned filly starts to lead them towards the eastern border of Taiga but the mention of Yanhua and Amarine makes her curious. They were bringing new flora and fauna to Taiga? It sounded terribly exciting and made her more determined that they should have an adventure of their own.

    "Have you ever heard of sunflowers?" Rosey asks.

    They have some at the court of her aunt, she knows, in a place called Terrastella. But Roselin doubts that anybody she knows has ever traveled that far.


    ROSELIN
    Reply
    #7

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    I liked to think that I had the best parts of both my mother and my father. I shared a lot of my father’s appearance, from his color right down to the same goat features as him. But I also shared my mother’s blue tail–though not the mane, which is something that had always bothered me. Maybe one day I would get around to doing something about that, but for now, I am content with the way I look, a perfect melding of both parents. And I was the only one of my siblings to share so many qualities with my father. I liked to think that made me daddy’s little girl more than the rest of them, but I know he loves each of us equally.

    Rosey, however, doesn’t look much like her mother. I am quick to take note of this (and little do I know that she is also comparing my appearance to that of her half-brother), and I wondered if she looked more like her father, who I haven’t met and know little about. That being said, however, I can see some of the delicate structural features of Lilliana in her daughter, though even those are overshadowed by what I assume must be her father’s features. A small part of me envies her uniqueness, though. While I am almost a carbon copy of Yanhua, she is something special.

    Either way, we weren’t here to compare ourselves to our parents, so I quickly shove these thoughts out of my head, realizing that I’ve wandered away from the situation at hand–something I seemed to do often (and I’m pretty sure I got that from my mother). Little did I know that what @[Roselin] would ask next would be about my father, and I laugh first. Realizing that this laugh was probably out of place, I quickly add an explanation. “Sorry, I was just comparing us to our parents in my head. I didn’t realize that you would ask something like that.”

    As the other filly moves onto the path, I follow closely. As I do so, I take her question into consideration. At first, I’m not exactly sure what she means. Perhaps she is talking about our empathic echos? But what she says next clarifies it a little bit for me. I laugh again. “Oh, you mean the empathic echos. Yeah, I do that, too. Although, I never really thought about it as ‘ghost-talking.’ Reynard shares this gift as well, much to the dismay of Cheri, who often plays guinea pig in our training.” I give Rosey a guilty grin.

    Truth be told, I’ve probably seen these lupines that she speaks of, but I just didn’t know what they were called. Reynard, Cheri and I had spent a lot of time exploring the redwoods. I didn’t know what a lot of the flora and fauna here were called, though that’s not for lack of trying. I did know about banana slugs, and I wonder if she’s ever encountered those unique little creatures of the forest. Either way, she seems intent on showing me what the lupines are, and I would entertain her in that respect.

    I am so distracted by my thoughts that I almost miss the memory she conjures up for me, but I have become pretty good at feeling the very subtle changes that someone else’s memories have within my head, and when I do feel it, I latch on to the memory in question and thoroughly examine it. “Oh! Those are so beautiful!” I had been to the meadow in question, but I’d never really stopped to admire what beautiful flowers the lupines were, and now I find myself excited to learn more about them. I skip next to Roselin eagerly in anticipation.

    “No, I have never heard of sunflowers.” Just the name alone makes me think of something big, bright and yellow. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen here in Taiga, so this is something I imagine I’ve never seen before. Eager to know more, I wait to see if she will conjure up some sort of memory of the flowers for me.

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash
    Reply
    #8
    Her curious smile quirks when the younger girl laughs and Roselin tilts her head, wondering if she might be privy to the joke. When Memorie reveals that the reason - that she had been comparing them both to their parents - her bright blue eyes gleam. Rose pricks her ears forward and stops, glancing back at the chestnut filly.

    "Sometimes I wish I had been born a different color," she admits. "It's kind of strange not...," the yearling trails off but as she looks to her cousin, she has a feeling that the filly would understand. Most of the Taigan's who claimed relation to her mother had some variation of her chestnut coat and blue eyes. Roselin shared that but hers were a paler shade, a color that seemed closer to a winter sky than a summer one.

    But then Leilan's daughter gives a playful toss of her dark head and blows a small puff of ice smoke. She glances at Memorie again and shrugs her shoulders. The yearling was rather fond of her ice scales and the way that they could catch the light; of the way they looked when darkness fell and Roselin could use them to reflect the glow coming from her white markings.

    Memorie moves closer and Rose takes that as her cue for them to continue their journey. Eager to show off her recent discovery, it doesn't take the older filly more than a few steps to reach a sweeping walk. Her hooves brush against the ground, covered in generations worth of pine needles and decaying leaves. She listens as the copper girl explains that she has the Echoes like Yanhua and that her half-brother, Reynard, does too. It would seem that spotted Cheri does not and to that, Rose can only offer: "I'm sure she has her own gifts."

    Magic in Beqanna was wild. At least that was how Lilliana had explained it. Sometimes there was no reason for the way that a horse might sprout wings (or antlers) and other times, it could be generational. That magical gifts could be passed along from parent to child as naturally as the seasons change.

    When her cousin exclaims about the beauty of the Lupines that she had shared with her, it invigorates, and Roselin grins. She can't wait to return to the little clearing again. More than that, she can't wait to share the wonder of her flowers with someone who is actually excited about them. Neither Oren nor Reave had ever shown much interest.

    "I've never seen one," Roselin shares. And then she elaborates, concentrating on the hazy image that she had been given by Lilliana. A field of them, blazing and brilliant beneath a setting sun. Dusk, her mother had explained. That was the name of the land and in their court, they had gardens full of them. More than that, the gardens had more than just flowers. Things that Roselin's mind couldn't understand.

    Her expression turns determined as they continue to travel.

    "I'd like to bring them to Taiga." Like Yanhua and Amarine, she thinks. Something that @[Memorie] - with her gift for flowers - might be able to help with. "They make Mama happy and I'd like to make her smile."

    ROSELIN
    [Image: jck74A.png]
    Reply
    #9

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    I laugh heartily when @[Roselin] admits to wishing she was a different color. “Well, I’m the spitting image of my dad, other than my mane and tail, in that respect. And while it does make me feel like daddy’s little special girl sometimes, I feel like I’ll always be living in his shadow.” And he cast a pretty big shadow, both literally and figuratively. “Anyway, I like your color. It makes you…unique. I like the gold,” I say, motioning with my nose toward her mane.”

    As we move down the path, I keep my ears tipped in the other filly’s direction, listening to her talk while also making sure to ignore emotional memories that were not my own. No one wanted me intruding on their thoughts all the time, and anyway, it was good practice for what Yanhua was teaching me about my gift.

    The conversation turns to the rest of our family–or rather just my half-siblings. When Roselin mentions that Cheri likely has gifts of her own, I give a small, excited skip. “She does! We recently learned that she has the gift of healing. I think that’s definitely cooler than empathic echoes, which can be…intrusive, at least in my opinion.” It was the one thing that I wasn’t always terribly good at, keeping out of other horses’ heads, especially when I’m not practicing. I tend to let everyone’s emotions in, and always have, so when father wanted me to learn to keep memories out, it was definitely not something I was used to.

    It is definitely exciting to share in the passions of plant life with someone else. Having flora revival, one of the few traits I shared with my mother, had always given me a deep appreciation for the life of plants. I could literally feel every cell within a plant as it mutated and divided and grew when I was using my gift. When Roselin shares the image of the sunflower, as hazy as the picture is, my jaw drops. “Those are…so cool! I exclaim. “They’re huge! They would fit right in here among the giant redwoods!”

    And suddenly, a plan started forming in my head. It was an ambitious plan, for sure, but a plan nonetheless. “Rosy–!” I breathe, stopping in my tracks, “If we could find these sunflowers somewhere, we could easily bring them back. Just like dad and Amarine are going on a quest up the mountain to ask the fairies to bring different flora and fauna to Taiga, we could go on a quest to find the sunflowers! And then we can bring one back, and even if it’s dead, I have the ability to bring plants back to life. It would be so easy, and so perfect!” I was practically skipping at the idea.

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash
    Reply
    #10
    There is one thing that the yearling and her niece (Cousin? An extended family member? Rosey isn't sure what to call the numerous relatives that live in Taiga. She just knows that they are all family and she has been taught that's all that matters.) Roselin is as dark as night while the younger girl is that lovely sienna she has so often admired in her mother and older brothers. But there is the gold shimmering in her mane, a trait she shares with both her parents and with her gold-marked siblings and their kin.

    The yearling smiles at the compliment that the chestnut filly gives. While she certainly resembles Yanhua, Rose shares with her the advice that she had given herself earlier: "I think you look like yourself." The smile quirks to one side, presenting a lopsided grin to her companion. It might be her sire's coloring she had and her mother's mane and tail that she shared, but the two combined to make Memorie unique.

    An ear flicks towards the other Taigan as Memorie tells her about Cheri, how she shared another familial trait instead of the Echoes. Healing, the filly had chimed as they walked along and Rose nodded her head. Her nose crinkles a little at the thought. "I'm not sure I'd do well with blood or sickness," she admits, and though she is partially teasing, Roselin had shrieked and run away when Oren had flung a dead fish at her when they had been little. Reave was always bringing home scrapes and bruises (why not flowers and leaves and other treasures?) and the smell of blood in their little grove was not uncommon.

    Roselin often took those moments to step away from her brothers.

    She peers at @[Memorie] again, wondering if there she had more traits than what she had shared. The filly hadn't prodded her memories the way that Reave sometimes did. There wasn't the careful caution she could feel pricking at the edge of her mind (that was likely her mother, Lilliana). Did she have more than just the Echoes?

    An answer presents itself a few moments later as Memorie shares an idea; as she becomes so ecstatic, even Rosey's feet start to quicken their pace. The younger girl slows and so does she as she considers what her relation is saying. She hasn't found sunflowers anywhere in Beqanna yet (and Yanhua had even attempted to help her in that search). Maybe the answer was there? The silver-black adolescent considers it, finding it hard not to smile at the way that the chestnut alongside her was lighting up.

    "Do you think we'd have to go to the Mountain?" she asks. It's not something Lilliana would like; her mother would most likely (and very firmly) tell her 'No' if Roselin even broached the subject.

    But she is already imagining the way her dam's smile might bloom if she could only see, if Rosey could only show her what they had brought back. "But maybe nobody would have to know," she starts to conspire with the other girl. "We could say we were going to...," and there she trails off, because where else would they go?

    ROSELIN
    [Image: jck74A.png]
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)