(claimable!)
Once, when she was a little girl, she remembers gazing at the sunset across a meadow full of wildflowers and thinking it had to have been the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She’d turned to her mother then, and in a quiet voice filled with awe, had asked her this:
”Momma, why does the sun have to leave us at night?” Her mother had smiled at her in that knowing smile that only a mother could have and told her the story of the sky. She’d told Katla how the sun, just like the rest of us, must rest at night - but not to worry, for only when the sun went to bed could the stars come out to play.
That night, they’d stayed up late - so late that Katla could hardly keep her eyes open, but she fought to, anyways - and watched the stars glittering up above, twinkling like a field of diamonds in an ocean of deep, dark blue.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Now, she watches the stars alone with her head tilted toward the sky, light reflecting in the warmth of her brown eyes. She thinks of her mother back home with a small twinge of sadness, missing her more and more as each day passes. The thought of adventure had been so alluring when she’d first left home; she had brimmed with excitement at the things she might discover, babbling to her mother late into the night as they watched the stars one last time together. Then, the morning had come and whisked her away, and her travels had brought her…
Well, here, wherever that is. She huffs a tired sigh through her nostrils, her inky black tail swishing lazily about her equally black legs. Her head drops slowly, reluctantly, and she turns her back on the past. Despite her sadness, the need for
newness hadn’t receded; her adventurous heart skipped as happily as ever, reserving only the smallest part for the past she’d left behind. She can feel it with every step, hammering away its anticipation in her chest, a childlike giddiness that sends her on her way and throws a skip in her step.