The light pulls and you can feel your bones cracracraCRACKLING with every fading ray and every bit that flashes through the branches above sends the tremtremtremTREMBLES down your back and the breath at the back of your throat hitchitchHITCHES and it’s no longer yours and you’re running and you’re foaming and you’re falling apart in a speckle of bones and flesh.
What do you know about the children of the woods?
What do you know about the silent ways in which the leaves swallow their footsteps, the careful tugs of wind that take their whispers up to the canopy and scatter them across the stars?
What do you know about the way the air tastes when entangled with copper?
What do you know at all?