- Vol. 04
- Chapter 06
Your dry bones, stark, stripped bare of supple flesh. Your arrogant antlers, curved, poised to tangle trespassers. Your ever-pointing finger, insisting I had got it wrong. You, perched on a stone throne, for extra height, to elevate your ego, desiccated, proud. You, doomed to miss the spirit of the forest, the tree of life. You did not see the trunk holding me safe, enwombed. You did not know I grew, ready to kill your wife.