The Moth
Ouveimohr feels the brisk wind in her long blonde hair as she runs barefoot in the grass. She is always without shoes, refusing to wear them ever since she could walk, no matter the occasion. Even now, at the age of seven, she will not allow anyone to try and convince her to put them on. Any indulgence of the idea is fought with great vigor. Her father has essentially given up on the quest and will allow her to run shoe-less without hindrance. Her aunt, Nuezuhr, on the other hand always makes sure to voice her disapproval, “One of these days you will end up stepping on a shard of glass and cause an argent cascade,” is her melodramatic and illustrative saying. She’s tried many stratagems to convince the child to put on footwear. At first, she was gentle, as is her nature, thinking that patience was the way to fix this contention. After a bit, she tried to bribe the little girl with fancy shoes, shoes that would glitter in the sunlight, as she knew that Ouveimohr loves all things that sparkle. This worked the first time, but after wearing them for one day she refused to wear them again insisting that all shoes are unbearably uncomfortable. Next, her aunt moved on to punishment, if Ouveimohr would repudiate putting on the shoes she would receive a spanking. Though this was the most effective, it broke Nuezuhr’s heart every time she laid a hand on the child, so she settled on stern warnings. She would make her disapproval known, but she would not stop the child. Maybe Ouveimohr will just have to learn the hard way.
The unbothered little girl is currently chasing pretend fairies in her vast yard. She runs from the house to the metal wall that marks the edge of Krigoth. She runs from the vegetable garden to the flower garden. She runs from the fountain to the gardening shed at the edge of the property. Her tiny feet dance across the grass as she “catches” one of her little fairies in a jar by the shed. Something flutters at the edge of her vision and she quickly turns to see a moth. Her face beams at the sight and the skirt of her white dress flutters in the wind behind her as she chases the moth. One of the windows to the aphotic shed is slightly propped open and the moth flies through the small gap. Without hesitation, the small girl runs to the door and tries to open it. It’s locked.
“Hmm,” She thinks aloud. Then stares at the window. What if she climbed through it? She shoves the window the rest of the way open. It makes a loud caterwauling noise, startled she looks around her to see if anyone is watching. Assured that she is alone she continues forward, hoisting herself up the ledge by her scrawny arms. She tumbles into the dusty outbuilding. At first, her eyes see nothing but darkness, but as they adjust she sees floriculture paraphernalia lining the walls. Pots, shovels, bags of soil, and surprisingly she notices that a shimmering gold ichorous substance is covering the concrete floor. Is it blood? Her eyes flutter about but soon enough they land on another window across from her. It is shielded by a dark curtain. Ouveimohr quickly steps toward it and runs her hand against the dusty cloth noticing how soft it is before revealing the other side. She stops. A shiver runs down her spine as she takes in what is in front of her.
“Oh. My. Angles.”
