This is a story of a young wolf, who merges bodies with her best friend:

 

"Where could you be? Mum, Pop? I need you now more than ever!" Lillian thought. Edgar was killing off more wolves everyday, and it was Lillian's fault. "LILLIAN!!" A wolf screamed as it burned in the wild fire. "Soyla!" Lillian gasped. Soyla was Lillian's best friend, and now was burning! "I-I can't save you! The fire!" Lillian whimpered. Soyla's body lay there, a pile of charcoal and ash. "Why can't I save them? Why Mum? Is it my fear. My fear of losing all this?" Lillian glanced over the blackened earth. "Lilli....you couldn't have saved her." Thorun whimpered, "You would have been burned too." "My name is Lillian! Not Lilli!" Thorun just smirked. "Lillian? Isn't that a silly name? Who would name their pup Lillian?" Lillian felt her face get hot. "Why didn't you save them then?! YOUR THE ONE WHO COULD WALK THRU FIRE!" She snapped then ran away, feeling guilty, but ignoring the feeling.

"Your are guilty, aren't you?" Willow sighed, as they ate the last of their supplies. "You are right, Willow. Soyla died in the fire yesterday, and Thorun did nothing! He could've saved her! She would still be with us if he had gone in!" "No, she wouldn't. Soyla was blind, remember? She wouldn't have known he was coming." "Then how did she see me?!" Lillian screamed. Willow sighed, "Some say that when a loyal wolf is dying, they can see things that we cannot, like if someone has weak, or strong magic, or see if they had a hidden illness. Soyla, saw you, thru the fire, and she wanted to tell you something important. I do not know what." " Willow, you can have the rest of my food. I am going to go for a walk." As Lillian walked thru the forest, she saw a ghostly figure, standing on a rock. "Lillian. Lillian. Lillian!" It howled. "Yes?" She whimpered, then she recognized the figure! "Soyla! Your...." "Yes, Lillian. I am not actually here, I am a spirit now." Lillian was shocked. "I came to tell you." Soyla continued, "There is a traitor among your pack. I suspect Thorun." "Yes, he could've saved you! But he didn't." Lillian winced. "Soyla, you are my best friend, how can I help you find this traitor?" "By letting me share your body."

Later, Lillian and Soyla walked into the camp. Willow saw her, and screamed, "Lillian! Your eye! You are going blind!" Actully, Lillian made up that she accidentally hit herself in the eye with a stick, but really it was Soyla, sharing Lillian's body. "Willow, I saw Soyla." "SOYLA?!" "Yes, and she said there is a traitor among us, so we merged bodies, and we shared one now." ("Can I talk now?) Soyla asked. ("Sure go ahead!") Then, Lillian couldn't feel her mouth. "Hello, Willow. It's me! Soyla! When I died, I saw Thorun, inside, he is evil." Willow nodds. "I thought so..."

To be continued! 

Here's a scene from one of my novels, which I would love to hear everyone's feedback on!

 

Suddenly Reynara began to speak, still facing the east.

"Whirlwind. You were born for better things than competing against mere mortal horses. You were born to be the steed of Prince Arran, he that was born in the Golden Vale, he whose mother was Druide of the Valley of Firran. Come to him, come to him, come to him now."

They waited, still facing the east. And, out of the sun it seemed, a wonderful horse came, racing through the tall shoulder-high fall grasses and flowers, straight as an arrow toward the prince and Reynara. He was a golden bay: a beautiful brown color, with tones of reddish gold that matched the sunrise, and his silky mane and tail were dark as the nighttime that had just left them. He drew closer and closer; Reynara was amazed at his speed. Now he was only a few steps away. He gave a final leap, arched his neck, whinnied, and cantered right up to them.

"Oh, isn't he beautiful!" Reynara breathed. The horse let her pat him, and gave her a friendly look, but he seemed most interested in Arran. After all, it was Arran whose steed, apparently, this horse had been born to be.

Where had the horse come from? 

No one knew the answers to these and many other questions, least of all Reynara and Arran, who stood patting and fondoing the new horse in the golden sunrise. What mattered to them was that they were together at last. No matter what lay ahead, it would happen to both of them.

And here's a character sketch from another short novel:

What would it be like to have a father you knew? Roxana wondered. Her mother, Emma, had divorced her father, Dave, before she was born. Ever since then she had only seen him at her birthday parties, and sometimes they had bumped into him on the street or at other people's parties. She remembered him as a tall, carefree man who called her Roxie and seemed to understand her as no one else did. Even in their too-brief moments of meeting, something had flashed between them. Their eyes often met: Dave's merry, teasing hazel eyes and Roxana's rebellious dark-blue ones, and at this both would smile involuntarily. But always Emma hurried Roxana away - too, too soon.

She had adored him, clung to that glimpse of his character she had had and made from it a sort of father figure. The last time she had seen him, she had been about six and he had dropped in at her birthday party, on his way to see his girlfriend. Just before he left, he had bent down and whispered, his mischievous eyes more serious than ever before:

"Take care of your mother for me, Roxie. Okay?"

She had nodded.

"Okay." For a second he grinned at her, then abruptly he had stood up and left the party.

 

Not sure how good it is... I would really like some feedback for this scene too, if anyone has any ideas!

Bitter violets blend, scrambling up the

Blue smudges, kissing gold-soaked clouds; shining twixt,

Beads of white fade lay, they cry till they're grey,

Bleeding dyes twist and mingle -- dancing, languid

Shining slyly, grinning till they fall --

And they are falling.

All the way down.

Down to your face, effortlessly slipping together,

The flames and blossoms of natural beauty

All dripping into your willow-figure --

The essence of the eyes all a mere extension of you.

Who can stir the night? I wonder,

Fallen leaves glittering, sky itself a thick puff

Of heavy dark purplish-grey lint -- clinging to bare trees

As if trying to warm their fragile bodies.

It seems to ooze, to suck the frigid branches into oblivion

Until I pass beneath, and realise, I too, am swallowed up

By the vast expanse that lies above --

Starless, moonless and sunless; but not lightless.

Indeed, the neon pinpricks of the city stain the ink-black clouds --

Peculiar how rarely we think of light as pollution --

But their colours bleed, blend, end up as an ugly mess

And yet such scars of unnatural chaos, of tears and bursts

Begin to feel beautiful -- natural, even -- after a while.

Eyes bent short with age yield no such luxuries,

Thus I must enjoy these moments while I can;

I let Autumn ripple her cool fingers over my figure,

Let her sing a soft whistle twixt the stillness,

As if trying to drown out the mechanical whir of far-off cars,

The occasion unrelenting skid of a high-up and invisible jet,

And of course let her try her best to stifle these lungs and thrumming heart

That so insidiously prevail through their metal reincarnations and offspring.

Indeed, who asked for such treacherous destroyers,

I know it was certainly not me.

So I rewrote that one snippet about Bitty and Lala AGAIN. (It's been changed and clear-ified significantly, I promise)!

~~~~~ 

A cold wind tore – seemingly endless – that night, howling as if a prelude to the storm that was bound to consume the empire* by the following morning.

However, deaf to the cacophony outside, two figures faced each other in heavy, darkened silence – save but for a faint hum and teal neon glow – eyes locked; steely golden-river-dust against cherry-blossom, desperate.

"You can't be serious about this," The latter whisper-shouted in disbelief, earning but a light, half-amused lip-quirk from the other. Yet her unflinching eyes betrayed her coldness.

A long time ago, this would've worked. She'd have meekly lowered her head, tail between her legs; a barely-audible apology slipping from her lips. But things had changed since then. Eula was no longer a pitiful little beggar, wandering the streets, beaten and reviled; nor was she the poor, weak girl desperate for an esteemed young lady's whimsied favour. No, she was her own person, and now knew her value. Bitty had no control over Eula, nor her future anymore.

"Lala!" Annoyance laced the voice, but quickly melted into a more soothing tone, "Lala… I think you're a little confused right now. Step awaaay" she drew that out, as if speaking to a child, "from the control pad. You see all those buttons? they're dangerous, Lala. You don't want to touch those! You just got tricked into playing with them is all-

"No."

"...W-what?"

"No, Bitty. I said no. I wasn't tricked into this, I'm not confused." Her voice remained level, composed, "This is my choice." My choice matters.

Bitty seemed taken aback for a moment, speechless. "Well, uh, why… Why don't we head back now, La-"

"I can't do that."

"Can't? Why, of course you can! Who would stand up against-"

"I think you misunderstand. By 'I can't,' I mean 'I won't,' Bitty." The air itself seemed to tense around them, even the hum of machinery too intimidated to call attention to itself. It seemed Bitty finally realised that something was up. "I mean it."

There was no going back. 

"Wh-why are you doing this?" A peel of sobs burst from Bitty, "Why are you doing this to me? Really, why?" Her brows scrunched together awkwardly, as if she was confused as to whether she should be angily commanding or heart-wrenchingly pitiful in the moment. 

She was quickly snapped out of her tumult by a cold laugh, much to her horror. "Quit playing around. It's over. Bridget." The figurative slap left Bitty stunned, genuine tears forming in her eyes. How had it come to this? There's no way any of this was for real, right? 

"D-did, did you- You did not just-" She tongue-fumbled in fury. Eula watched on for a moment before in three long strides coming face-to-face with the woman she once loved – now flinched back in trepidation. She ignored the typical "What are you doing"s and grabbed Bitty's cloak-collar, only setting her down after an odd grey carved-on slat clattered to the floor. Then she turned on her heel and approached the panel again.

How reckless, Eula thought, quickly bypassing all systems with but a mere few strokes as the floored Bitty grew paler and paler by the second. "You… Lala, you don't mean to-"

Eula smirked, lit ominously by the now scarlet-glowing interface swallowing the lab. Bitty surged forward, eyes fixed on the last button of the sequence, a big red 'confirm?' button. A soft 'click' beneath Eula's finger. Bitty was too late. 

Sickening silence washed over the pair before-

KABOOM!

A deafening wave rent reality for a split-second, pulsing through rock and metal and air like they were all nothing but melted butter, and it a hungry monster tearing and raring to get in. 

Then, just as soon as it had begun, it stopped. Stinging silence once more.

Eula had disappeared, and Bitty lie alone, vision blurring as the historic laboratory of horrors crumbled around her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

So what do you think? If you've read the original(s) you'll see things have gotten a lot less clunky and cringe. Is the pacing too sudden though? Is there anything you're confused about in this version? Which part do you like most?

"You want to face Death?" Scorn swam across her features, rearing its head like a venomous serpent with the cold quirk of her brow. Her coarse rasp — a mere metallic imitation, that sorry excuse of a laugh — throbbed through the air around her, as if matching a heartbeat could disguise the lack of life behind it. "There is no facing Death. There is only fleeing from, or succumbing to her."

It's funny how much I've grown

And yet 

I still 

Can't.

Not with you.

Maybe I should have known

5 years ago

After all 

Sticky summer scents really can

Muddle the mind

And lead one to strange conclusions.

Who would've thought 

I 

Would fall

For you 

So quick, so easy, so foolishly. 

Ah, but it wasn't summer when I met you, though.

It was in the spring; months or years before,

I believe. 

You were on my brother's baseball team

The thing is

I'd never watch the games, I'd play with the grass

Or pretend to let the creek whisk me away,

Or melt into a soup of wind-blown pages 

Fill fill tales of far-off adventures,

Indeed, I shouldn't have remembered you,

Not at all.

And yet I did.

You probably hear it all the time,

That you stick out a lot 

Because of your height.

Funny how people only judge you for your tallness 

But not your quirked-up little smile

Before your laugh inevitably pours out like honey

Or the way you get all soft and needy (in the best way possible)

When you're tired or having a rough day

Or the way you stumble over your words

When you're really nervous,

Especially when you think I might take

Those light laughter-laced words the wrong way.

I know what you meant,

And I can't help but teasing you a little

Since I know you would never hurt a mosquito on purpose

Even with all the power in the world,

Or at least that's what I like to think. 

That's much later on in our story, though.

Anyhow, I'm pretty sure the first time

I ever thought of you as more

Than a mere name and face,

Just my little brother's teammate

Was at that pizzeria your uncle owns

(that's probably why you were helping out) 

Where the baseball team held their

End-of-the-season party.

That place always has had dim lighting,

As if cradling some clandestine affairs within

And perhaps that's why when I caught your eyes

Flick away from mine 

In surprise 

For the fourth time on me that night 

(such terrible stealth you have, 

negative stats at that, I'm afraid)

I hurried to the restroom to check

Make sure there wasn't anything wrong with my appearance.

Even then, looking in the mirror

I refused the caterpillars burrowing in my stomach the right to flutter

That was just silly.

Yeah, I'd entertained the thought, 

But there's no way you liked me.

Sure, I know that's the sign of "someone liking you"

Sneaking looks at you for no reason 

But…

What a joke.

Just look at me.

Even I don't want to see myself

For longer than I have too. 

Frizzed mud'n'straw-coloured hair

Pulled back in a tight little bun

Almost as awkward as the spectacles 

That rest across my too-wide nose,

Plopped onto a shiny freckled face 

Yes I'm overheating in a crowded place like this

And as wet-and-salty-palmed as the ocean I so love,

Meaning I'm a glistening red-hot mess.

Just... No.

Maybe you have terrible eyesight, that'd explain it. 

But that doesn't stop those trailing eyes of yours

So I just pretend I can't see or feel them,

Mask my self-concious discomfort with feigned oblivious-ness.

The caterpillars enter their little sleeping-sacks

And I will them to just shrivel already, to leave me alone.

There's no need for such silly ideas in someone like me.

And so they seem to obey me,

Time to think about something else.

But soon summer rolls around and I'm abandoned

Left alone in this cement prison of a building near the school.

Cold and smooth-grey, bleak as can be

I find a spot in the corner to wait for night to fall.

But I am not alone forever, no.

Other kids eventually come to play

Mostly on the playground next-door

But there are plenty are happy

To escape the blistering sun in this concrete cage.

You are one of them. 

You gather a couple of kids, bringing along a stray volleyball 

And march over to the tape-marked boxes on the ground.

Four-square!

I usually got shunted off to Bible camps during the summers before,

And there I had managed to pick up some basic games, such as this.

And so I join.

Of course, after watching for a bit beforehand. 

I'm not the fastest, not the most aggressive or the tallest

But I'm quick enough, and catch patterns well

So even though I'm not usually in king-square

I still last for pretty long and play well.

The first game I played

I reflexively smacked the ball before it hit the ground --

An automatic 'out' in Bible camp rules, 

So I turned to leave, quickly explaining why

But you quickly told me that that wasn't the rule here,

So I should stay in.

However, embarrassed at the scene we were causing,

I sheepishly refused;

Discomfort mounting by the second,

You insisted though, so I forced the blood out of my face

And trained my thoughts fast on the ball

A pounding filling my brain 'til it felt bound to burst.

I didn't last for too much longer in that round. 

 

There was another time when I joined the queue

And someone cut right in front of me.

She was a tiny feisty little fireball, not necessarily mean though

And I didn't think it a big deal or care at all anyways

So when you came over to tell her off --

Against my feeble protests swarmed in

"it's really fine"s and "you really don't have to"s

And wrapped your fingers around my wrist

To gently tug me over to my 'rightful' place --

The little cocoons couldn't help but rouse a bit

With the raging storm of flustered emotions

Swirling 'round inside.

Unrelated; chronologically I'm not sure when,

(Although I remember we weren't super close yet

So probably some time before this)

You accidentally hit me with a basketball

Twice on the same day

(kinda funny since you're on the school team now)

When I was picking up the stray toys as time neared dusk.

The way panic seemed to squeeze your baby-face

As you apologised, genuine and sincere,

Made it so I couldn't stay mad at you for long at all.

In fact, that probably endeared you to me

Way more than it should have

For a practically first-impression situation.

It was just one of those chest-squeezing kinda moments.

Weird, huh?

Anyway, as for my beloved four-square,

I eventually become known as a fair, impartial player,

One of the few who never argued or made counter-accusations

And I stood up for whoever was in the right

When such arguments presented themselves.

I began to referee games when there were enough players, and it always stunned me

How you always listened to me,

No questions asked,

With nothing more than a nod and "alright" or "ok" 

Even when I accidentally made a wrong call once.

(You grumbled a little then,

But didn't actually put up any resistance for some reason) 

It was then I decided that I could never fathom the inner workings of your mind.

Ya know, was funny when we'd put ourselves at a huge risk 

Just to keep the ball in play,

To keep the game lasting a mere moment longer,

To save our dear friends from the cruel world beyond our tape-crafted sanctuary

And to show our goodwill for our comrades in arms

Even though we easily could have let it just slip,

As per the technical rules of the game.

How many times did our eyes connect

When one or the other hit the ball out of bounds,

Before diving to slap the ball across

Our mini pocket-dimension in a show of compassion?

How many shared grins and first-bumps did share knowing 

We could hold our own, but chose to co-shoulder the burden?

That each could cover the other's back in a time of need?

That we were each reliable and a necessary piece of the puzzle?

And yeah, we'd hold onto that hope no matter who played,

But there was a certain spark of intensity when it was just 

Me and you, against the world.

Sometimes I'd fancy us a power-couple, even.

As friends, simple teammates, of course.

Early on, I also made a friend called Sara

Who was really good at drawing.

She was a rare kid who was fine with art and sports,

And was practically always by my side during daylight hours. 

We'd draw together while waiting for you to show up, 

And could then invite a fourth person (or more) to play four-square

(I remember once waiting for a fourth person I continued drawing,

Then suddenly you were looking over my shoulder at my sketchbook

Me tensing up and pretending I couldn't feel your breathe on the nape of my neck

Nor my heart racing, thankful I had flipped to one of the really good drawings

To touch it up a little, right before you showed up.

I'll admit when you slipped away to fetch the volleyball without a word

I was a bit disappointed.)

Still, such a squad we were, 

And such fun we had.

There was that one time while we were playing four-square

When you suggested some girl could just tie her hair

Around itself in a bun, pointing to me as an example,

Much to my mock-horror and absolute amusement,

Trying in vain to convey just how tangled that would make it.

I laughed, but it didn't slip past me

The way your eyes and corners of your lips followed me and my example.

Awkward, but easy to brush it off.

I remember when we had recruited more of a friend-group

Playing boardgames and Sardines and Dodgeball.

Sweet as you were, I would fall for your little tricks too often.

You often asked for help with something to pick the "it"

In those kinds of games, whoever goes first

And my goodness I blindly fell for it each time.

Once you transferred your king-square to me

For helping pull you up (what a dork)

Which was quite the feat

Considering you were approximately a metre taller than me

(despite me being a year older) 

And quite frankly still are.

(I had time to freak out later when I realised we had technically held hands for a minute there…)

I still hold onto those "thank you"s and smile-paired little hand squeezes,

Platonic as they might have been.

Pathetic as it might seem now

By comparison.

 

Once you also picked the first hider in Sardines

By making a hoop with your arms and telling everyone

To put a hand in, and then saying

"Oh no, can someone put a hand in for me, since mine are busy" 

Of course, of course I was just dim enough in the moment to do so

Promptly gaining myself a sly little grin and "You're it" from you.

My lord, did that turn my stomach into a hamster-wheel…

Then there were plenty of other times

When I would say something and you'd laugh

Or you'd say something and I'd laugh,

And then you'd glance at me and start laughing too,

There was just something so mesmerising there,

About you and your presence;

Arguably there still is. 

Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all that took me off guard,

Or perhaps me being a hormone-fueled prepubescent child,

Or maybe it was all just you at your best, 

Shining pure and true.

I really don't know.

I'm pretty sure I even thought about kissing you once

But then shrugged it off like some weird intrusive thought.

Huh. 

I kinda regret letting that time go.

(The time spent comfortably in our friend group, that is)

I wish I had found the courage to ask you for your contact information

Or chosen to go on more of the adventures with y'all,

Or gone swimming with you guys that one time 

Or talked more freely

Or been more fun and personable with you 

Or maybe even asked you out.

None of that ever happened and half a decade later it stings

Like hot tears burning stark against a biting frost. 

For the first time in years we're in the same school again.

(3 years ago you returned a watch I'd dropped in a crowded hall when visiting the country

Since you walking a bit behind me,

And, yes, I melted at the sweetness of your voice when 

A soft "of course" fell from your lips at my thanks,

Eyes crinkled in a breath-hitching smile.)

You're going to be the end of me, mister.

 

(We also had a class together 2 years ago when I came back

But because of covid, it was completely virtual.

However, you better believe that seeing your still sleep-tousled hair

And little yawns was way too adorable for me to handle 1st period every other day)

I don't really think you recognise me anymore.

In fact, I'm pretty sure you don't.

I don't blame you, though.

Just recently, I had an amicable break-up with a long-term girlfriend,

So I've been lonelier.

That's when I noticed you again (kinda).

Not as if I hadn't noticed you before;

I had. Duh.

Every day

During lunch, or in the halls I know you sometimes pass through

My eyes subconsciously scan for you.

And when we do pass by each other

I kinda wish your eyes would fall on me again,

Regardless of how I nervously avert my eyes (can't be too obvious now, can I?)

Or offer a polite smile in your presence even if you're not looking.

I just… Pretend it's nothing. 

Just me desperately missing such a wholesome friendship,

One that long-ago slipt out of grasp.

I just can't seem to look away from you (not for long, at least).

 

The other day after classes ended

I happened to see you walk by to go grab a drink

(I was waiting for a club of mine to start) 

And goodness gracious you could be a model in that uniform 

A basketball nestled against your hip.

That was a peak dose of emotional damage for a while, lol. 

Yesterday I crossed paths with you like 5 times,

(I accidentally made eye-contact at least once,

Since my eyes naturally wander,

And I'm fairly certain my soul actually left my body.

I swear you saw right through my every pretense,

And it didn't escape me

How you suddenly popped up right behind me

A couple of times later on, either.

Then again, I'm the type to turn around

The instant I see you walking towards me

And head in the opposite direction no matter what I was doing

Or stop and chill with my friends for no reason

If I happen to catch loitering you in the lobby

Eyes anywhere but on you,

But my actions betray me.) 

Right after I told my friends I was crushing on someone.

I died and they inevitably figured out that "someone" very quickly.

They wouldn't stop teasing,

Especially since you sat really close to our table at lunch today.

You really are going to be the end of me, Mister. 

But then as I was walking home today, it occurred to me.

(again, but for the first time in a while)

I'm not enough.

I'm not the person you knew 

(of course neither are you, but you're still aMaZiNg in my eyes, so...) 

I don't think I could really offer you anything you want.

I'm just an awkward potato floating around, Lost in the Universe

Non-binary

Outwardly loud and exuberant 

A spontaneous prescription-powered force of chaos

Who crumbles further under the weight each passing day.

Would you even recognise me

As that shy, impressionable little girl I once was?

Even if I was that girl anymore,

And even if you ever actually felt anything in the first place

Would it be worth it after half a decade of waiting empty-handed? 

Would I really be able to play the part of a partner you'd want?

I'm know I'm messed up in ways I'm not sure how to fix – if that's even an option,

Ultimately a loner in the end.

Ya know, that is somewhat on purpose.

I really don't deserve to be selfish now, do I?

You deserve way more than I could ever hope to give.

Besides, you have a whole life which I only cast a faint glint on.

I should just let it go, shouldn't I? 

There's no point in letting these venom-filled moths

(yes they bloomed into moths, not butterflies)

Eat away at my insides anymore, now is there?

I'd just be holding onto a childish notion and hope

When I'll be turning adult in the next year or so.

It's kinda funny because no matter how much I grow,

I'm still the same broken person underneath it all. 

Too afraid of shattering my idyllic past

The way it shattered me

And so

I

still

Can't.

Not with you. 

You deserve so much better.

That's why

You, Sir, are going to be my undoing.

~~~~~~~~~~  

Sorry y'all, I know I initially said it was 2k words (in fact it was originally 2001, to be precise) but I tinkered with it for a minute afterwords and it suddenly became much closer to 3k... Um. I don't know how lol???