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ꜱʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀꜱ.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ɪꜱᴀʙᴇʟʟᴀ.
"ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ; ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ɪᴛ."
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͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ.
In which (y/n) thought she had seen the last of Isabella when she left her at the wall. 19 years later, sh...
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(adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous
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Hidden in the lowest branch of a familiar tree, I watch my target closely. It is not the fastest prey, but it has a thick skin that is penetrable only behind the ears. Its large belly nearly drags on the forest floor, and its small eyes are focused completely on the vibrant greens we've been baiting it with for almost a week now. It's at least a ton.
I pull the string back with a gentle force, as expected, the hog takes no notice. It's one of the only species that doesn't migrate in the winter, and I grin with satisfaction as I let the arrow go, and it hits the hog exactly where it's supposed to. Right behind its left ear.
"Did you see that, Baba?" Sonju just laughs. He's in the tree beside me. His long limbs are covered by a thick fabric, similar to what I'm wearing. Gifted to me by Mujika, I'm adorned in a winter cloak. I've worn it every winter since my arrival, and have fallen in love with it. It's a warm brown pelt with a black, fluffy lining that stretches to my ankles. I've grown into it nicely, and god have I grown.
The summer after my arrival, I had a large growth spurt. Nearly 11cm in one season. Mujika scrambled to accommodate my new size, and recycled some of the clothing I had brought with me to create new garments. Though, she was insistent on keeping a specific outfit of mine. She claimed it was "too cute" to cut up and reuse. So to this day, there's a small cardigan and skirt tucked away on the highest shelf in her room, titled "Mementos".
Since my first year, they've developed many parent-like tendencies similar to that one. All very subtle, but there nonetheless. An example is our morning routine. Sonju and I make a habit of hunting in the mornings. Prey is awake and roaming the forest, and the weather is typically fine. Before I leave, Mujika kisses my cheek and fixes my attire, despite her distaste for waking up early. It's a part of the procedure at this point, and something we gradually progressed into. It's comfortable. In fact, she's alarmingly good at mothering.
I've woken up every morning for years with a hug and a warm breakfast. We cook and sew together, and sometimes we hunt little dove-like birds. I have a curfew, homework, and I'm often reprimanded by her for my shortcomings. Sonju's habits are less obvious- and more awkward- but I don't mind. He's a bit clueless when it comes to affection, and Mujika and I tease him about it on the daily, but he still makes an effort.
Occasionally, I'll go to my room after dinner and my room is clean. I ask Mujika if she's done anything, and she just smiles. On my nightstand, fresh-picked flowers sit in clear water in a clay pot. They never rot, and the water never gets grimy. I assumed it was Mujika again until I caught Sonju replacing them late at night. I was attempting to fake being asleep, and I observed the scene through squinted eyes. I couldn't help but beam, and bury my face in my pillow. As discreetly as possible, of course.
