391
Myrika is by me!
Although Myrika wished desperately to hear an affirmation of love in return, there was none. It was not so much a suspicion that the love itself had evaporated entirely as much as it was simple need to hear it, to be reassured of its continued existence, to bask in the sounds of very simple and very powerful words. She could not push for them, however, nor ask that they be spoken for her. All their power and loveliness would then be spoiled -- however slightly, but still permeated with that faint tinge of the false.
She might have defended Inferni and explained all she found, but she did not. I know -- it's okay, she said. Although some girlish and naive part of her had hoped for permanence, maybe some poor semblance of a family, she put this hope away and was unwilling to grieve for it just now. There was always time for that later -- as for now, she did have Cassie. There was enough awkward strangeness and lulls of silence without adding this log to the fire.
She could hear the buzzing of cicadas through the open windows, the endless song of summer ringing impossibly loud. The wordless tune sounded mechanical just now, lacking in the lazy beauty it had always seemed to hold. There was an occasional snort or bleat from the animals, but they were languid with the still-lingering heat, and did not produce so much sound as the insects.
Their noise, even, did not seem to equal that within the room. Myrika had never experienced quiet so all-encompassing before. Nor did she frequently experience such a loss of words -- one might think, with so much lost time, she could speak of the things she'd seen and experienced since last they'd spoken. At the very least, inane prattling might have provided a welcome distraction, but for all her prior babbling, nothing welled unbidden from her throat.
Cassie, she said, gently and now directing her muzzle and eyes both toward her sister. What happened? Myrika was not even certain whether she inquired on the blood and dirt and mud she'd cleaned away from the pale fur last night -- or the older things clinging to her sister, the remnants of whatever had come to pass in the long interim since she'd last seen her.
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