- Jul 8, 2022
- 197
- 33
- 28
MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧
the reflection of a molly stares back at her, but buck struggles to recognize her. fish dart through the mirror, disrupting her image. she is alone on most occasions, but she's never felt lonelier. the willow that had once housed her and her kin now only holds the steady figure of the river cat. she fears that her outburst on raccoon may have further driven them away. the days of watching them around the camp, watching them as they travel where she cannot, is far more punishing than anything her parents had given her. they live so easily amongst them that buck fears she may not be of need. there's no need to fish like she used to. there's no one home to give it to. her paw is heavy as it hits the water, watching the brown disappear through the small waves. the fish scattering as she does so, and all buck does is watch the silver-scaled life move. they travel up and down stream with only one purpose and that's simply their survival. how different is buck from that? all she's ever done was for survival. she wasn't like caraway, who saved some kit from drowning and continued to take care of her. or carefree and simple and loving like raccoon. no, buck is buck. she fishes, she lives, and that's it. the darken fur that lines her back furrows as claws strike at the water.
a pike struggles to free itself from the demise buck has forced upon it. it's out of anger, this kill. something buck is careful to never do. at the very least she's starving enough to devour it whole. but the point stands. cicada has decreed she is to be gone, and her time is slipping. she'll either die by the river, or die trying to leave it. perhaps a break from a constant fight with no reward...no, now she's simply thinking silly. the pike is transferred from claw to fangs, the bottom of her maw dripping as she looks upon the river again.
life was never simple, but it's never been this complicated before.