04-28-2018, 04:54 AM
She was a goddess.
Not to every wandering child, nor to the trees. Certainly not to her own kind as they drifted through their own lives. The birds overhead merely found her inconvenient, though terrifying- it would only take once for the fledglings left on the ground a minute too long, and she would have them for all eternity in the name of a snack. They cried out in protest at her presence, but remained high overhead in relative safety. Their cacophony and displeasure usually amused her slightly, but today she had other matters to attend to.
She may have been just another passerby in these woods to most of its residents, but to his poor fox, wide eyed and exhausted, she was the reaper’s blade raised mighty. She relished in the little things: flecks of foam flying occasionally from its dry tongue, the way that it whimpered pitifully whenever its paws landed on a stone. Life and death hung before her jaws, and she needed only to close a little distance to make that choice her own. The idea sends a pleasurable tingle down her spine, and left her pearly fangs glinting as she sneered. She weaves through the trees with astonishing grace, given her strength, slowly and steadily closing the distance between herself and the white-dipped top of the fox’s hindquarters. Curious, really, that a wild thing would have such markings- lovely auburn fur that mixed so well with the surroundings, yet with a gleaming target painted right on its rump. Natural selection, she supposed, and who was she to interfere in such important processes? No, this lost little creature would do nicely for her dinner, if she could just sink her teeth into that delectable warm skin.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, the door of opportunity flew open. It leapt over a large log in the path, but in its exhaustion, her prey misjudged the height. It tripped over the top and with such momentum, came crashing into the damp carpet of rotting leaves chest-first. In an instant, she had gracefully cleared the same log and had the thing pinned down, helpless. Slowly, she pressed her claws through its fur, relishing in the way its skin yielded to her pressure and just barely puncturing the surface of its skin. It was not, however, struggling as much as she preferred; she raised her opposite paw high, intending to strike dramatically and remind the little thing that it needed to play for her. What happened instead made her blood run cold, stole her strength and made her nauseated. It turned and looked her, huge icy blue eyes that felt as though they could see right into her soul, and spoke.
In all her days of hunting, she had never seen such a terrible thing. Not only did it begin to speak, but somehow, its eyes were changing, really looking at her. She immediately withdraw from the creature’s chest, backing herself against the log as she tried to distance herself. “Please,” it said in an ethereal voice, “I don’t want to hurt you.” She snarled at the absurdity of the thing, and began to recover herself and return to her work.
“Mother.”
Traton awoke in a cold sweat, her jaws clenched tightly. It had been ages since she had slept long and hard enough to dream, and she couldn’t say she missed it entirely. Around her, the bed of rotting pine needles was disturbed from her apparent movement. she grunted as she got to her feet and shook off accumulated dust and dew, leaving a considerable amount still clung to her thickening coat. The autumn evening around her was crisp and a little cold, a much-appreciated respite from the hot, damp world she left behind. Foolish, perhaps, to sleep in open territory, but exhaustion takes its toll. Anyway, she'd only meant to remain long enough for a nap, nevermind that it had started before the sun had set. Groggily, she moved from her little copse of trees toward the sound of rushing water, hoping to clear her mind. Overhead, stars twinkled merrily, and a bright moon lit her path forward.
If only it could do the same for her thoughts.
@[Sid] wheneva