...love you to death.

There was nothing worth noting. There were no songs worth singing, no poems that needed reciting. She wasn't going to worry about looking nice when there was no one to impress. Nothing worth impressing, nothing impressive worth writing home about.

The world was a cruel collection of considerable buffoons, and none of them made her want to leap out of her skin to make a spectacle for. No one would stop for her passing. No one would stop for her dying.

Everything passing by was not coming back.

There wasn't a pelt pretty enough to make her want to stop and stare. There wasn't a mask she couldn't see through, a set of antlers she was interested in climbing. There were no stars in Sianna's sky. There were no wishes thrown in wells, no shoot stars to hang hopes on.

There was nothing she would race for, no one she wanted to run to. There had been no heartfelt goodbyes.

There was nothing - not a single savage solitary soul here - that she was willing to love to death.