Vesta
Vesta wandered along the creek and wove amongst budding trees and bush in search of the red willow her ‘ami,’ had sent her for.
Once boiled with water and ingested, the red bark of willow became a remedy which would lower fever and reduce pain; a much needed medicine at this time of year when the weather was unpredictably hot or cold.
Vesta noticed the creek started to bend just farther east from where she stood. Beyond the bend, an alcove would shelter her from a cool spring breeze that blew through this shaded area of burly twisted tree trunks. There a few feet beyond that bend lay a meadow surrounded by thick bush and willow tall enough to block any wayward wind. Vesta stepped briskly toward the bend up ahead, eager to shake loose her brown woolen cape a
nd carefully coiffed hair. How she looked forward to these rare moments of freedom away from the confines of the community where she felt like such a hostage. Out of mortal fear, she’d been forced to camouflage herself amongst them – those she described as, ‘murderous vultures.’ She deliberately dressed in dowdy colors like they did; browns, grays and blacks were colors that more often than not kept one unnoticed among the colonies vultures. Still, she liked ‘tiny pretty things’ and would don a small sparkly necklace or pin that could be easily covered if necessary when prying eyes cast their umbrous glances in her direction. (more…)
The Trefoil Muse 
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