Wandering with grace
It had been a very long time since Amelia had wandered with grace.
She woke in the morning, put on her boots, put on her favorite cozy sweater, wrapped it tightly around herself, and went outside into the world.
The world was very cold and covered in snow, yet the elk behind the trees guided her where she needed to go. She pulled from her pocket a handkerchief full of berries and offered them some; they came to her with ease.
She picked up sticks and twigs for the fire at home, thanking them for their existence.
It had been a very long time since Amelia wandered with grace.
She came back to her tiny home, opened the door, and placed her stack of twigs next to the fireplace.
She looked over her shoulder at the suit of armor, collapsed and sprawled by the door next to where she had left her boots.
She took off her sweater and climbed into bed under the sheets of fur. She climbed into the arms of a man who whispered as he pulled her into his large frame,
“How many elk did you feed today?”
“Four, my king.”
“Four,” he smiled with his eyes closed, and kissed the top of her head as she drifted to sleep.
This writing is not about Amelia.
For those who listen between the lines.
Elaine Degro
