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But the moment that I touched her hand — just her fingers — felt, to me, like a year. Because in that fleeting moment, I felt it again. Nothing. I returned to the jungles and was lost in the labyrinth of her quiet. And I know then an absolute truth: She is a problem that I cannot ignore.
“Hear me now when I tell you that I have no desire for you, body or blood,” I lie, “and when I tell you something, it is as I have said it. Do not ever attempt to compare me to another living being on this planet. I am not of your species. And I am not a Heztoichen, either. I am Lahve. Impartial, rational and uninterested in the fleeting affairs of humans — or their flesh.”
My hand flexes, wanting to capture the sound in my palm and slip it into my pocket.
“It is not a weakness to ask for help. Many would find it even more difficult than coming to someone else’s aid. There is…something about asking for help that makes us feel vulnerable, frightened, afraid of rejection, perhaps, or of failure. But asking for help is a sign of strength and of confidence, not just in yourself, but in the one you choose to ask.
“I’m not fucking leaving.”
Wheeeeeeeeeezinggg
Humans and their fires. It is disgusting, the way they flirt so boldly with death.
They’re just brown…and yet I am strapped to the tips of all of her eyelashes. I want to count them, one at a time, over the course of time, not all at once. Her face is a thing I want to savor.
“Mate?” Rick and I chime together in four different sets of vocal cords.
“Yes. I swear you’re going to be the death of me. I cannot bear this happiness.”
The forest is the backdrop, the one where Edith’s nightmares now sleep their long sleep.
As they SHOULD
“Wife, I have known no greater wonder.”
