But now that Dunsa had made it this far and was this close and the joy of seeing her fathers again tugged at her sleeve like a puppy she wasn’t sure being here was what she wanted. She wanted the hugs and the ensuing dinner meal. She wanted the cups of wine after and the frontroom storytelling. She wanted to climb the narrow stairs to her waiting bed and sleep till the smell of bacon woke her. She maybe wanted to repeat that the next day, but she didn’t want to the third day or the fourth or the fifth or the hundreth. She wanted to come home; she didn’t want to stay.
If I walk in that door, she thought, I’ll never have the strength to leave again.
She felt the trees on the slope behind her become an answer.
Wow, I hadn’t expected this head writing to be so hard. Clearly I need a better idea of what’s going on in this girls life around her before I can write what’s going on in her head. I was going to try to muscle through this to the end—and I should—but I’m going to wimp out and not do that. Let that be a lesson to me.
208 words on day 888