Fuel for the Journey

Eating soothed her at once. It seemed to drown out the panic.

Caterpillar ate for hours, long into the night, and did not stop to rest.

Caterpillar Eating

The woods were quiet except for the tick and tear of her teeth on leaf after leaf. Overhead, the stars burned hard as diamonds until it was time for them to fade. Only then did she lift her head and hurry to shelter. She waited and watched as the sun lifted itself right out of the horizon. To her own surprise, she even dozed, she was so tired.

In many ways, Caterpillar exists along a single, noisy line. At one end is a ravenous clamor; At the other end, a faint, scraping crave. Haunted always by hunger, governed by fears both named and nameless, maybe it’s to her credit that she can also passionately treasure—and fiercely miss—a small, pale stone.


About penina

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