Lakes of Blood and Ash
The Rookery: Fledgling Lost Between Breaths
Papa has passed on and is neither here nor there, but everywhere at once. A small comfort for me, to think he still guides my talons on the knife…
It was better times before. Pushing my eyes to see in the day, it was painful, but a kind of pain that felt good. Finding papa’s door in the morning glare and being welcomed in by mother’s arms and the sweet smells of aged meat laid out for me. To see my little cousin Grubben already gorging himself in the bucket by the table sigh. Now I’ve made a thousand ravens that dance on my strings. I’ve lived one year in this life and already feel so drained.
My patience is limited. It’s cold now and the sun hurts more than it ever has. Do what I ask, please, release us both from this inane moment so we can seek out the warmth. Do as I say and let us find the opportunities to revel in the past and distract ourselves in good work. The…good work.