walking on barbed wire

the thing about ghosts, Dulla idles to herself, is that they linger. right now, in this new land with this stranger, she can feel the remnants of her familial distraught melt away like frost on a summer breeze. but in the quiet place between heartbeats, she knows they will return, so vivid in her mind they may as well be right before her. ”i could try,” she acquiesces, head tilting in thought, “but i think, perhaps, i’ve no say where ghosts can dwell.”

she takes a moment to consider the stranger, as he does her; there is something complex shifting across his face, there and gone in a flash. Dulla wonders at it, but she isn’t one to push - if any one respects the privacy of others, it’s her. his question pulls a self-deprecating huff from between satin lips, something wry and equally bitter curving along her mouth. “hah, now that…that’s a question.” the uncertainty of her future makes her stomach clench, makes her want to turn tail and scurry back home.

her teeth clench. never. “i’ll confess to being rather…unfamiliar with this place.” an understatement, if ever there was one. ”perhaps you could tell me where i am? maybe then I’ll have some idea where to go.”