- Jun 21, 2022
- 215
- 73
- 28
The river glimmers in the moonlight, each ripple illuminated by a soft glow. It's a still night; even the river is hushed, it's babbling softened to a dull hum only audible if one listened for it. It's as if the earth had been frozen in time. Reeds rustle and part to reveal the cinnamon-furred feline, drifting along the riverside with light pawsteps. He doesn't remember why he'd ventured to the wetlands. His mind is trapped in a haze.
Is he even in control of his body in this moment? It feels as if his paws are guiding themselves, an invisible string pulling him along, further and further away from his home.
Honeybee pauses, their gaze shifting to the reflection in the water. The stars glitter overhead, mirrored in aqua luminaries. Their brows pinch together, a frown etching itself on their face. There's something gnawing at them, but there is not a word that they could place to the sensation. They stare at their reflection, scrutinizing it over and over, as if the river holds the answer that they're seeking. Why? Why are they here? The explanation would not come to them no matter how long they agonize over it. Their bobbed tail twitches, a frustrated huff pushing itself from their nostrils.
A cacophony of whirring rips through the silence of the night. Honeybee startles, reeling back with fur bristling. Their head snaps in the direction of the noise. An insect watches them from atop a reed with large, beady eyes. It's translucent wings illuminated by the full moon above, veins glowing in the light. When Honeybee's gaze meet the insect's, it emits another piercing shriek. Their stomach twists upon the recognition of this invertebrate. A cicada.
Honeybee jolts awake with a gasp.
Heart pounding in his ears, he scrambles to his paws and stumbles from the den. With a shaking breath, Honeybee cranes his neck to look at the moon. Three times. Three times he'd dreamed of the riverside and cicadas. He'd wanted to brush it off as just a dream, but it's beginning to seem too real. There's a sinking feeling in his gut that tells him it's more than a dream.
Is he even in control of his body in this moment? It feels as if his paws are guiding themselves, an invisible string pulling him along, further and further away from his home.
Honeybee pauses, their gaze shifting to the reflection in the water. The stars glitter overhead, mirrored in aqua luminaries. Their brows pinch together, a frown etching itself on their face. There's something gnawing at them, but there is not a word that they could place to the sensation. They stare at their reflection, scrutinizing it over and over, as if the river holds the answer that they're seeking. Why? Why are they here? The explanation would not come to them no matter how long they agonize over it. Their bobbed tail twitches, a frustrated huff pushing itself from their nostrils.
A cacophony of whirring rips through the silence of the night. Honeybee startles, reeling back with fur bristling. Their head snaps in the direction of the noise. An insect watches them from atop a reed with large, beady eyes. It's translucent wings illuminated by the full moon above, veins glowing in the light. When Honeybee's gaze meet the insect's, it emits another piercing shriek. Their stomach twists upon the recognition of this invertebrate. A cicada.
Honeybee jolts awake with a gasp.
Heart pounding in his ears, he scrambles to his paws and stumbles from the den. With a shaking breath, Honeybee cranes his neck to look at the moon. Three times. Three times he'd dreamed of the riverside and cicadas. He'd wanted to brush it off as just a dream, but it's beginning to seem too real. There's a sinking feeling in his gut that tells him it's more than a dream.
