Minea’s hand shot out like a whip, fingers locking around Luna’s wrist. The younger girl barely had time to gasp before Minea gave a sudden, sharp tug. Luna’s feet tangled in the tall grass, her knees buckled, and the ground came up fast. She let out a squeal — half surprise, half protest — as she landed with a soft thud, the dry earth crackling beneath her slight frame.
But Minea wasn’t done. The force of her own pull carried her forward. Her boots slipped in the loose dirt, and for a split second, she teetered on the edge of balance — arms flailing for something, anything, to grab. There was nothing but air and Luna’s wide eyes staring back at her. Then gravity claimed her too.
With a rough grunt, Minea hit the ground beside Luna. Dust rose in lazy spirals around them, settling in their hair, clinging to their clothes. Luna pushed herself up on her elbows, cheeks flushed, breath quick, a confused laugh bubbling up despite the sting in her palms.
Minea, face half-buried in the grass, groaned and rolled onto her side. She shot Luna a look — half glare, half exasperation — as if blaming the girl for the tumble they both took. Luna stuck out her tongue in playful defiance.
For a moment, silence wrapped around them, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and the soft hum of insects in the tall weeds. Then Minea barked a laugh, sudden and sharp, which made Luna giggle harder.
