I woke up to the morning mist lingering low, caressing carelessly the trunks of the forest castle in my wake.
Something is distinct.
I smell like sex.
I looked over at Pan’s empty blankets. He moves calmly beyond my reach, stretching his hooves, gazing at the forest. Slowly I extend into the shallow sky. Now I am soft footsteps.
Something is distinct.
The salty smell clinging to my skin is unwarranted. Resonating sweet like blood with the staleness of saliva.
A brine much too dissimilar from the ocean.
Pan stretched his hooves. He smiles a Good Morning. He does not encircle me as the fog amongst the trees.
I curl inward, reach for my paws, then lengthen my spine in view of the redwoods. They are so strong, standing and growing. Withstanding fires, they heal their own scars patiently and confidently.
My hands hang uselessly.
I look to Pan and wonder if there really is nothing at all to say.
The cold air becomes my breath and with it comes a certain darkness. Like letting a wave take me under into its current before it spits me out on the shore.
I gather my blankets. I think it’s time to take a shower.
