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Glow-wood cherries; the word bounces through her head like a little rubber ball, as the flavor bursts on her tongue. The hard pit, gingerly removed from her mouth as the last of the cherry’s fleshy goodness is chewed away, tumbles through the pale snow, leaving a sticky, obvious trail in the pristine white; she swiftly furrows about for more, pausing for time as much as she is desirous for another taste. Besides, she had, after all, seen many of these pretty trees in the Edge, and was sure there would be more fruits about the bases of the others to go around. That she’d never had a regular cherry, however, made it hard for her to determine whether or not glow-wood cherries were the right name. Sure, they obviously came from a glow-wood tree, but that was, as far as Maude was concerned, quite unimaginative; it also, however, was obviously easy to remember. She thus became quite conflicted over the name in general, thoughtfully chewing on yet another succulent fruit, and carefully dropping another pit from her ginger lips, in as lady like a manner as she can manage. “I suppose it’s a good name,” surmises the filly at last (mostly because she can’t stop vacillating from one conclusion to the next), “though surely the name can’t describe how yummy they are. Who names these plants, anyway? At least “glow-tree” is simpler than what type of evergreen is which, that’s for sure. Even though daddy says they don’t, they all look the same to me. But this fellow is definitely what he is.” Anytime she’s thought of lady-trees, she’s led to the wonder of whether or not they can get pregnant, like other mothers. The thought of a fat, pregnant tree was, needless to say, not one Maude cared for, and was perhaps why she assumes this one is a male, like her own Hometree. Going back to the exposed cherries, already relatively full (but unable to stop eating them), Maude chews while listening, a skill she’s trying very hard to hone. Graciously accepting Erthë’s protective wing with a cherry-speckled grin, the filly sidles a little closer after shaking what snow has accumulated on her pelt away. It is good to be close to someone who is bigger than she is (not that her daddy and her friends don’t cuddle with and linger close to her, too), and Maude, having never experienced cruelty from others, easily trusts the older girl. “Won’t you get cold, though, Erthë?” she inquires firstly (though truly glad to have the cold flakes no longer gathering on her back), repeating the mare’s name, before continuing on to answer the snowy woman’s questions, and to ask more of her own shortly after; her brows furrow down at first, the girl having not been asked that particular inquiry of her future field before, but her smile quickly returns, “I think I will! I helped Auntie Aelfwine once, is all, but it felt nice. And I really like being in the greenhouse. Even with the snow outside it still smells warm, like summer, inside.” The faintest hint of guilt crosses her young face, but she quickly wipes it away by grabbing another cherry, and talking around her chewing (in a very unladylike way, despite all her other attempts to be dainty and courteous). “They probably need help keeping the snow away,” wincingly grins the filly, her smile returning to full vivacity as she, instead, thinks of how important getting to know a future Seer was, “but its okay. I’m too little to reach the roof, anyway! Besides, I like talking to you. Do you like telling stories and learning stuff?” She thought that was what the Seer did, anyway, aside from obviously talking to the Moon Goddess. & you just can’t fall asleep, I’ll sing a song beside you. and if you ever forget how much you really mean to me, every day, I will remind you. |
Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone.
