1. Iron rusts, wood burns, stone crumbles, until all that’s left are the ghosts.

2. Evening is the only time the song stops, as if the forest has paused for breath before beginning the nightly verses.

3. “You haven’t thought this through at all, have you.”
“My version of an acceptable solution is different than yours, that’s all.”
“It’s a meaningless sacrifice–“
“To you.”

4. Harsh red lights cut through the growing darkness, slicing back and forth through the fog in frantic loops as the hunters try and pinpoint the pack.

5. Simplify, simplify, simplify—she cuts away at her life, paring it down to the raw necessities of survival, the very smallest values of self– and still it’s not enough.

~*~*~*~

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