alone amongst a murder

[Keona.]

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keona sibéal ní faoláin.
the typhoon.
the blind dealer.
information.

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[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2a4971; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 13px;"]Idir brí is idir muir, Tá mé i dtiúin

For one tailed by a young hooded crow, the murder is a blaring sound.  Sensitive ears flicking down.  Biting back irritation.  Too loud.  Was everything always this loud?  At least the crow following her, however sharp-minded, remained silent for now.  This wasn't Fala's murder.  If she had one.

The dire wolf herself is quiet too, coming to halt besides Diya without a word.  Sightless hues resting towards the sounds.  Murmurs of poetry.  Odd to catch by the railway.  Something more reserved for time tucked away in the sky parlor.  Teasing Salem on his extensive memory of Edgar Allan Poe.  Soft smiles when he recited their favorite pieces into the night.

Displaced, she hummed softly in acknowledgement.  Head tilting.  Fala settled on her shoulders.  CAWing back once in a way Keona could only identify as territorial.  Still unsure why the bird insisted on staying with her.  How she managed to grow attached to the dealer.  She was a smart bird... She could probably get back where she came from... But she didn't.

The fae shifted her weight to be more comfortable with her avian companion, lines of another Sandburg poem echoing in her mind.  Staying within.  The words would not pass the dealer's lips.  Uninterested in open reading among the unfamiliar.  The sea speaks.  And only the stormy hearts Know what it says.

It was an interesting choice, as Diya said.  The canine wondered if the crow read it or heard it somewhere.

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© MADI