- Jul 15, 2022
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Kindness has never come naturally to Betony.
She wants-- dearly, desperately, she wants to be liked, but is impeded by the constant thought that there is something inherent to her that is unlikable. When Betony finds herself with excess it is not her first thought to pass it onto another, as someone more generous may think. When she has the opportunity to be gentle in an often too-harsh world, she instead lets her worries work her up into silence. Betony balances on a too-thin branch that trembles beneath the weight of her thoughts, with no way to back herself onto more stable ground.
Hunting had been good, and under the predawn eggshell sky, the patrol that been burdened with Betony returns. Her ears burn, as while her clanmates carry with them a worthy haul, Betony only had a twiggy-legged rail to show for her efforts. If she could just prove herself-- she thinks, but then remembers with a certain harshness that there is nothing that she could prove worthy of herself that wouldn't be a lie.
Kindness is not her first thought: just another of her endless flaws. It is one of her older clanmates that suggests, speaking in a tone that implies that he is humoring Betony in some way, that she 'check on Dawn, will you? And maybe give him that bird of yours.'
So Betony does as she is told, she always does as she is told, and slinks her way over to Dawn, rail dangling from her mouth. Her face remains stone, even if internally she wishes the ground would swallow her whole. It's rough business, what happened to Dawn, and Betony doesn't want Dawn to think she finds him incapable of fetching his own meal. She drops it in front of him, head ducked and ready to back away.
"I brought you this," She says, as small as she can.