Daylight

The drop eases the glide of skin to smoothness. And it is easier still to make gifts for these creatures to carry in their hands.

The blush of daylight has yet to blanket the dirt when Tierra sets all of them out to bake, waving at Sol to release her rays. Everything warms in her gaze, and Tierra sits while Cielo toils.

They speak with Sol and then Mar, speaking of the shatter-point in ceramic and the water needed to scrape away dirt, all important matters to the plots of gods. Then Cielo is led into his domain to see one of the creatures, one that apparently holds a resemblance to them. As if such a reflection could be found among the throng.


But she is good enough. It takes until dusk for a strand of hair to be strung through the throat of a lovely thing. The one that Cielo gives the sweetest call, a bright note amidst the choir. A companion to Tierra’s favorite creature—where a drop burrows deep, deep deep. Nestling into her heart. The earthen fish to a calling hook.

Growing worse for it. Far past hunger when Cielo sends in invitations: summer storms stirring the sand. Baked clay grows into twisting, skittish things. Ready to run with the winds, through the middle deserts and down through mountain passes, breaching into the stone mouth of Santa Ana.