Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Four Hundred and Forty-Seven

Everyone else had made their kill, but Campion looked at the creature in her hands and couldn’t bring herself to break its neck.

Instead, she returned it to the forest floor where it sat and looked at her.

Old Milkweed came out from behind a tree. She looked stern.

“Kill it.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Will you be outcast for the life of a bunwit?”

Campion nodded and felt a strangeness – self being drawn away from noise and blood to a place of quiet greenness.

“Welcome daughter.”

She left her useless body and became one with the spirit of the forest…

©️jj 2020

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