- Jul 30, 2022
- 8
- 1
- 1
I'VE ALWAYS LIKED TO PLAY WITH FIRE
Magpie can't stay a moment longer.
The moon isn't even in the sky when she slips from the makeshift nest - from the makeshift den they've made for the night. She can't lie there pretending everything's fine - pretending she's okay, they're okay. Because they're not. Pidge is not okay - never will be, not ever again. She's seen the way her siblings look at her - like they expected her to leave at any moment. I guess they were right, she thinks bitterly. But they'd never understood her - never understood that she loved them, cared for them, in her own way. But being in her families company constantly was suffocating - fighting for mothers attention, the endless posturing, goldy's bossiness and storms bitterness... even little pidge, fragile baby pidge had been to much sometimes. The constant worrying - it drove her crazy. So she yes, she left - she wandered off on her own, to get the peace and quiet she so desperately craved. Was it so bad, she wonders, to want to be her own person - to have an identity that didn't revolve around her place in her siblings lives?
The shadows grow longer as she creeps through the undergrowth, firelight gaze glowing in the darkness as she stalks forward, her paws sure even in this strange and unfamiliar territory. Crickets chirp and frogs croak and fireflies buzz, and for once her mind is silent. She can think, she can breathe - she can grieve. A hysterical laugh slips past her lips into the heavy night air, streaming past parted lips until it becomes a half choked back sob, until the world is a blur to tear soaked eyes. A mournful cry, a desolate scream tears from her throat and she collapses where she lay, face pressed into the earth to stifle her grief. "Why?" she wonders aloud, as if she could answer. "Why did you have to die?"
