𝕾𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖗

                                    

                                          
Cradling him in her arms, she was reminded of how truly small she was. The thing she longed for most hurt her in ways she could have never fathomed. What a world, what a life. What a fragile life. 
                          
The storm raged on, but the air hung differently around her. The way the wind moved, the swirl of the clouds, it all seemed to be laughing. Laughing at her, at him, at mortality itself. She knew who had done this, but she was powerless to stop it. 
                          
Her damp fingers traced along his sunken eyes, the rough bridge of his noes, the edge of his thin lips. It all was so unreal. He had just found her, how could he have left so soon? 
                          
She leaned down to his ear, tear drops falling upon his cheek, "Dear Philza, come back to me, will you? You never taught me how to cook, I wanted to meet your kin," she choked back a sob, "I wanted to know what it is like on your farm. We were going to take care of animals." Her head fell heavily into the crook of his neck, her cries become louder with each breath until the heavens themselves heard her.
                          
"Come back to me!" snapping her eyes to the sky, she roared, her voice thick and raspy, "You knew this was going to happen! You knew I was going to suffer! But please," her eyes shut tight at the throbbing in her chest, "don't make him suffer for my mistakes."
                          
There was a rumble, and the rain began to feel sharp upon her skin. Shaking, she stood and taking Philza underneath his arms, she dragged him slowly, painfully into the forest. 
                          
By the time they reached deep enough into the brush to be safe, the storm had cleared, and it became night. A sick feeling arose in her as she thought about who was now conducting the stars. He did not have to make it night, he did not have to move the hand of time, but he did anyway. It burned her to her core. 
                          
The exhaustion she faced was different from the night of the festival. The sweet and spicy delights had now left a bitter taste on her tongue. It was hot, wet, and smelled of smoke. No rest would befall her that night.