Chapter 4: Marked Body

 

Basement, poorly lit

Candles flicker

One unfamiliar torch

A cloaked figure come bearing gifts –

Banishment and branding,

But not death, not hanging

From the highest tower.

 

 

Awakening, in pain

Heat crackles, smoke burns

Flames creep

 

Sister, marked – brand blooms across her lips,

A terrible flower, decorative knot,

So intricate.

She’ll prophesy no more.

 

 

I, I am marked too.

 

Splinter of wood

Crackle of fire.

Out, out, out.

Hide, hide, hide.

 

Wind and other things

Howl

Through woods

We sleep and lie awake

Lost in a hunting cabin

Moonlight slides through slats of wood.

 

Protect us.

Forget us.

Let us live.