( ♬ ) of all the felines caraway has met over their life, they can confidently say that buck is their closest companion. the forest hued molly, while hesitant at first, welcomed them to the river with fierce loyalty. they don’t know if they’d be alive had it not been for her. moons ago, they’d stumbled down to the river, paws bleeding, breath ragged and torn, and they’d sunk into the water. when the rusty accented voice invaded their ears, something inside of them had felt at home. moons have passed, cementing cara’s homeland as the winding stream, buck more of a companion than their family ever had been. when raccoon had squirmed his way into their little group, their heart had felt whole for the first time since the sinking of the ship.
much has changed since those quiet days. rumors of war in the pines and marsh had spread throughout the whole forest area. the three had vowed to stay out of it, confident that the battling groups wouldn’t stray so far. obviously they’d been wrong. still, nothing has been able to drive a barrier between the loyalty of the little trio. sometimes they go days without seeing each other, but every time, they each eventually make their way back to the nest in the roots of the willow. this is where caraway rests now, verdant eyes shut, tail curled around their nose in a tight blanket. their paws are twitching, soft whines echoing around the enclosed space. it’s a fairly normal sight -the smoke dreams often- but as they snap awake with a growl, it’s clear something is wrong.
chest heaving with breath, they glance around wildly, eyes scanning for an earthen pelt. “buck?” they call, voice aching. they try not to close their eyes, try not to imagine the cold dark water sucking their fur down, filling their mouth and lungs with salty choking liquid. they’re safe in the willow nest. the ocean is miles away. the river will not harm them.
// @BUCKGAIT.
much has changed since those quiet days. rumors of war in the pines and marsh had spread throughout the whole forest area. the three had vowed to stay out of it, confident that the battling groups wouldn’t stray so far. obviously they’d been wrong. still, nothing has been able to drive a barrier between the loyalty of the little trio. sometimes they go days without seeing each other, but every time, they each eventually make their way back to the nest in the roots of the willow. this is where caraway rests now, verdant eyes shut, tail curled around their nose in a tight blanket. their paws are twitching, soft whines echoing around the enclosed space. it’s a fairly normal sight -the smoke dreams often- but as they snap awake with a growl, it’s clear something is wrong.
chest heaving with breath, they glance around wildly, eyes scanning for an earthen pelt. “buck?” they call, voice aching. they try not to close their eyes, try not to imagine the cold dark water sucking their fur down, filling their mouth and lungs with salty choking liquid. they’re safe in the willow nest. the ocean is miles away. the river will not harm them.
// @BUCKGAIT.
( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )