When the birds are free to fall

 

 

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She hadn't meant to leave. Truly she hadn't. Though if posed with the question, if offered the choice, would she have chosen to stay? If only those fingertips could have caressed the edges of the cards to which fate had played upon her, forever a hand of schemes just out of reach from those soft curious pools of liquid honey. 

Yet destiny had a way of weaving paths through the tapestry of life that often felt both enchanting and cruel. With each step she took away from the familiar shadows of her past, she couldn't shake the bittersweet taste of longing that clung to her like a half-remembered lullaby. Something warm and reminiscent of a time when her heartbeat hastened from within her chest and her head swam with a dizzying bliss. Was she supposed to remember something... or someone?

The question slipped away like smoke, swept off by the chilled breeze. There was an undeniable lure to the untrodden paths that stretched before her, to the possibilities that beckoned and whispered, reeling her deeper and deeper into the marrow of the wood. There was a certain thrill to the unknown, to forging a new self amidst the vibrant chaos, yet with each breath of the cool night air, she felt the ache of nostalgia settle in her bones.

Would she find what she was searching for in the unfamiliar faces that passed her by, or in the laughter echoing from the taverns that spilled warmth into the night? The cards had been dealt, and while she couldn’t rewind the clock, she could play the hand she had, make choices echoing with intentions yet to be revealed. And so she moved forward, each step a declaration, a simultaneous embrace of possibility and an acknowledgment of a loss she couldn't quite grasp. 

Henley's gaze lifted to the sky where the moon hung heavy and bright, casting a silver glow over the dimly illuminated path ahead. Something stirred within her. A presence. She squinted, peering through the underbrush, her instincts sharpening and pulling her from her reverie. Was it the breeze that twisted through the trees, or was it something far more palpable lurking in the shadows?

"H-hello?" Her voice rang out softly, barely breaking the stillness before she inhaled sharply, a sudden coolness brushing over her bare skin, tinged with quiet urgency. The forest seemed to inhale alongside her in a collective breath, the silence thick and aching as it coalesced like a shroud. Heart racing, she strained to listen. The quiet drew out, a shrill quiver that swam down her spine. Intuition whispered a plead that her legs would run.
 

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Speech | Français — French

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