- Jun 22, 2023
- 19
- 2
- 3
( ♡ ) Houndheart had been hungry before.
It used to be that hunger was all that drove her. Every waking moment had been spent fighting to keep that feeling at bay. All she ever gave any thought to was her next meal, and she did whatever it took to get it. The gnawing in her belly justified anything back then. Until she found that she could not stomach to do so anymore.
Now, for the first time in her life, she had invited hunger onto herself willingly. The clan was short on prey, so she had skipped meals so that others could have their fill. She was a little proud of that. Back when the marsh group had begun to go hungry, she had not even considered doing this. Instead, she had greedily grabbed whatever food she could get her paws on, making certain that she had her fill. At times she had even gone as far as to scarf down her catches the moment she got them, so that no one would know how much she was really eating. Imagining what her old self would have thought of her now would have made her laugh, were the pain in her belly not so sharp.
Even though she was keenly acquainted with the feeling, she had never been able to bear hunger gracefully. With each missed meal she became more sullen and miserable, and eyed what little there was of the fresh kill pile more resentfully.
Houndheart tossed and turned in her nest, unable to get to sleep, until she finally pulled herself to her paws with a grunt and stalked out of the den. If she was not going to sleep anyway, there was no use disturbing her denmates with her troubles. The moment the moonlight hit her, she stretched and rolled her shoulders. Hopefully a nighttime stroll would do her some good. With any luck, she could tire herself out enough to pass out before sunrise.
Slowly, she paced back and forth across the camp, her tail lashing behind her. All the while though, her good eye kept drifting back to the dwindling fresh kill pile. Without thinking about it, she found herself inching closer to it the longer she paced, until finally she was standing right in front of it.
The smell of prey to her starved mind was intoxicating. Her mouth watered. How noble she had been when her belly was full to pretend that she was different now, she thought. It had been easy to pretend that hunger no longer ruled her when she did not feel its sting. What arrogance. Her stomach growled angrily. For a moment she thought she might tear into the whole pile, choke down as much as she could and then disappear into the night.
A low, rumbling growl of frustration left her. Then, gnashing her teeth, she turned away.
( MY DARLING; THE DEVIL KNOWS MY NAME )It used to be that hunger was all that drove her. Every waking moment had been spent fighting to keep that feeling at bay. All she ever gave any thought to was her next meal, and she did whatever it took to get it. The gnawing in her belly justified anything back then. Until she found that she could not stomach to do so anymore.
Now, for the first time in her life, she had invited hunger onto herself willingly. The clan was short on prey, so she had skipped meals so that others could have their fill. She was a little proud of that. Back when the marsh group had begun to go hungry, she had not even considered doing this. Instead, she had greedily grabbed whatever food she could get her paws on, making certain that she had her fill. At times she had even gone as far as to scarf down her catches the moment she got them, so that no one would know how much she was really eating. Imagining what her old self would have thought of her now would have made her laugh, were the pain in her belly not so sharp.
Even though she was keenly acquainted with the feeling, she had never been able to bear hunger gracefully. With each missed meal she became more sullen and miserable, and eyed what little there was of the fresh kill pile more resentfully.
Houndheart tossed and turned in her nest, unable to get to sleep, until she finally pulled herself to her paws with a grunt and stalked out of the den. If she was not going to sleep anyway, there was no use disturbing her denmates with her troubles. The moment the moonlight hit her, she stretched and rolled her shoulders. Hopefully a nighttime stroll would do her some good. With any luck, she could tire herself out enough to pass out before sunrise.
Slowly, she paced back and forth across the camp, her tail lashing behind her. All the while though, her good eye kept drifting back to the dwindling fresh kill pile. Without thinking about it, she found herself inching closer to it the longer she paced, until finally she was standing right in front of it.
The smell of prey to her starved mind was intoxicating. Her mouth watered. How noble she had been when her belly was full to pretend that she was different now, she thought. It had been easy to pretend that hunger no longer ruled her when she did not feel its sting. What arrogance. Her stomach growled angrily. For a moment she thought she might tear into the whole pile, choke down as much as she could and then disappear into the night.
A low, rumbling growl of frustration left her. Then, gnashing her teeth, she turned away.