- Jul 15, 2022
- 218
- 35
- 28
-
Slow moving waters, too silt-stirred to see the bottom, reflect the wonder of Silverpelt with perfect clarity. It should be a contradiction that something so filthy can look so beautiful on the surface and yet the marsh exists like this everywhere, uncaring to the thoughts of Betonyfrost. She sits at the edge of the waters, ears pricked and leaning just enough to see her dark eyes peering back at her from those murky waters.
Betonyfrost has always been patient.
A flash of movement, silver as the moon, and the whole of Betonyfrost that had been tensed suddenly releases-- a coiled snake striking. Her face plunges into the water and, when she pulls back, fur caught in wet spikes, she holds a writhing fish in her teeth. It is juvenile, no more than half a tail-length, and Betonyfrost is so proud of herself. She's never caught a fish before! It's hard to grip and, for fear of the fish bouncing back into the water, Betonyfrost turns away from the water's clay bank and settles with the fish by a nearby clump of towering ragweed.
Then, pain.
It come on so suddenly that Betonyfrost collapses, mouth still agape. The fish flails uselessly besides her, and Betonyfrost doesn't care, she doesn't care. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. A radiating pain, stronger than anything Betonyfrost has ever felt before. Somewhere on her cheek-- she keeps pawing at the area but then the whole of her head hurts all the way down her neck. She doesn't try to speak or make a noise, but somehow she keeps saying ah, ah, like her body wants to yell but doesn't know how.
Yet the wound on Betonyfrost's cheek is shallow enough that the bleed has already slowed from sluggish to a stop. It shouldn't hurt this much; why does it hurt this much? -
Code:
"[color=#ddafeb][b]speech[/b][/color]"
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags