private BEAST OF BLOODSHED | primrosejaw

[CYGNET'S CRY]

Morningtide had not been kind to the lands, and if there was one thing that Cygnet's Cry had been grateful for in this misbegotten land, it was that the shade of the knolled root had granted him some solace from the sun. The smaller rogue had been spared from greenleaf's ire, though not entirely, for the season held all in its clutches. Humidity pulled at angular features, drawing beads of sweat from under his skin, and leaving his throat yearning for the sweetness of a stream-side. The heat sweltered even within the gloom of the makeshift den, as though the dawn had primed and bared its fangs, beast whose suffering shed from its coat in waves. The shorthaired feline had splayed himself out on his shoddy nest, in an attempt to at least divert the heat throughout his rough-hewn pelt. If only he could have moved away, though he had been trapped here like a dog upon an leather leash. At least his tail injury had been healing rather quickly, even as the cobwebs gummed to his hind legs, as meager breeze stirred at the bare skin and pallid poultice. Growing used to the discomfort that such an arrangement provided him, Cygnet's Cry had learned quickly to allow his restlessness to culminate into dream-fraught slumber. He would be out of here, and he would never look behind his back again. The smoke point had been content in his solitude as well, until the familiar sound of rustling footfall caught his attention, and a one-eyed, gunmetal-grey smoldered upon the newcomer that had come to disturb his rest.

"Who are you and what have you come here for?" A surreptitious yet solemn tone, like he were some stolid guard of a forgotten treasure.

@primrosejaw ​