...let me see, what’s your name then? Laurelle? Laurelelle? Or even, Loreleielle-lelle-lelle?...you can just call me gone.
Lauri rolled over in her seaweed sleeping bag as the words replayed themselves over and over in her head. The sharp jabs from Matt’s words repeatedly stabbed her until the salty tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
What’s the use? she thought desolately, turning once again, this time to face the disgustingly bubbly brook. An owl hooted from somewhere in the distance, and the constant quiet cacophony of crickets kept her even farther from sleep than her thoughts.
“Glayelle, let’s go home,” she said softly to the still form that had rolled into the brook. “I don’t want to find Matt—he’s not my Matt anymore.”
Suddenly, the form took a frightening shape and lunged at her. She only barely dodged it as the Kraken hit the dirt with a large thud. Near the edge of the clearing, Glayelle groggily woke to Lauri desperately dodging the Kraken’s infuriated blows.
“Wha?” she said uselessly.