Scorched Earth winter and always leave room for

and always leave room for one more treasure

watching from the depths

the red stones darkening in the shadow of her throat

stripped from a creature long surrendered to the earth

with isolated areas of blue and green forming along recessed sections and near the tip

Scorched Earth winter and always leave room forThe ground splits before the warning reaches anyone. Heat surges up through the cracks, sharp and immediate, and the air fills with the sound of something vast drawing breath. Not wind. Not storm. Something older, coiled beneath stone and waiting for a reason. Then it comes. A burst of fire, not wild but deliberate sweeping low, close enough to kiss the earth without consuming it entirely. The surface blackens, fractures, reshapes. What was once solid