- Vol. 04
- Chapter 06
I am your mockery trophy, once preyed upon, no longer hunted, moth-eaten, past its prime, mounted to gloat at. Straddling my boulder egg, I am a doe disguised, morphed into a mighty stag, adorned with useless antlers. I bristle at the trunk behind me, laden with life, while my roots grow inwards, crowding out unspent, fleshless spaces in which bare branches defiantly refuse to bud. I carry wild blackthorn in my belly, a warning to the uninitiated: Enter at your own peril. Roots reach upwards, into my hollow ribcage, waiting with bated breath for my heart to hatch.