the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl
I may have walked past her about three times earlier, but I hadn’t noticed her significance. I know why, when it does hit me; when I turn around to regard the pregnant bay with fuchsia points, I see that it is the arrival of the horned dappled grey stallion that has triggered my intuition. Like a deja vu, I watch them from afar for a while, and pretend to be interested in feeding myself more than in them. My time is not now.
Others look up to them once in a while, but like me they don’t feel like they should come in between. I fold my wings and dim them, though letting them disappear fully is something that I haven’t been consciously able to do since the one time on the ice pixie’s mountain.
I listen. I hope they can sort it themselves.
”I am not coming with you.” The girl, a voice laced with emotion: anger more than sadness, I notice.
”It is where you belong!” The guy. Equally upset.
”I don’t belong in your fucking whore-house!”
That turns a few necks. Faces are scowling, but the couple only stares at each other in fury and the cycle continues.
”It’s the safest place for the baby.”
”You mean it’s the safest place for you.”
”For God’s sake, Ellia- aah! Dammit!”
A sound - I look up and see her fanged teeth drip with his blood, and I hurry forward, cursing inside. Am I too late already, to fix this?