The Red-Eyed Reindeer

her heaven is only half alive
i fell asleep in his, but he could not breathe in mine

Besides his hulking and lumbering form, he did not seem far too different from her—both dressed in tresses of onyx and white, and with strikingly golden and orange eyes. The only thing that differed, perhaps, was the half-frozen withering flower still tucked in Jendayi’s right ear. He headed in the same direction as her, Jendayi soon realized. She had been content to leave him to his meal (knowing just how protective wolves often get of their catches) but soon found their paths remained converged. Jendayi followed the man until the entrance of the cavern (and further yet still, Jendayi would have been content to abandon her temporary home for another if it meant she did not have to fight for it), but his voice instead breaks the steadiness of her thoughts. She stands on the outskirts of the den, a blanket of snow and ice falling upon her feathery shoulders and resting atop her crown, but she did not move forward until she saw his form reemerge from the depths of the crypt once more. Inside, the air felt warm—but it now also smelled of him, and it was so very in the nature of Jendayi to seek escape from it. Spirits, she chided to herself, you must learn to meet others. Loneliness was safe. Loneliness was an escape.

Shed your fears like a plume of feathers.

“You are a man who’s made up his mind,” she observes quietly, the faintest of humor dancing on her lips—but they did not twist into a smile where they might have. She ambled forward cautiously, and remained hugged against the free side of the den. While her posture was neither aggressive nor fearful, it was within the small maiden’s nature to avoid where she could, to respect his space, and her own boundaries. Slowly she settled, and while the sight of the doe was tantalizing enough to send her stomach spiraling, it was not enough within her to gratefully accept his proposition. Perhaps it could be blamed on Jendayi’s own lack of self-sufficiency in uncomfortable situations, and her ability to bite her tongue and thank others where she would prefer to simply stare from afar. “Thank you, but I’ve already eaten,” she lies, and leaves it there. Slowly she settles, and lays contently across the soft of her belly, the warm stone underneath melting the ice upon her back.