Happy Stabmas!!!!
I’m a few days late, but I had so much fun writing this for the ides of march!
A new verse, this write features my sweet little fae and some mean human rejecting her hospitality.
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It’s crude, a long piece of wood sharpened over and over again on rough stone to make some semblance of spear. She doubts it will actually work if she’s caught, but it’s the closest thing she has to a weapon. If she manages to run far enough, fast enough, it might serve as something to protect her.
She’s waited until nightfall- the monster is typically out hunting for her own prey by then- before she tries her escape. The crickets are chirping, and in the distance she can hear the soft babble of a creek. The world is bright underneath the numerous stars. It almost seems like a mockery that such a beautiful and peaceful place has been her prison for so long.