She wishes that she could understand the turmoil in her chest. She wishes it was simple to understand; she wishes it was simple to dissect and she could easily split it apart. Instead, she has a storm that brews in her veins that she can’t stop. Something that rages behind her eyes and makes her equal parts frustrated and confused and lost—driving her from the home she has made for years now and into the wilderness. She is grateful that she has more answers than she did before but she finds it does not soothe her.
Not completely.
Not even the hunt can do that some nights now.
Still, she pads her way through the forest this evening, her footfall heavier than it would be if she was actively stalking a hunt, the earth malleable beneath her paws. There are scents here and there that catch her attention, but not enough to stall her or divert her attention. Instead she keeps moving forward, feeling the chill of the air brush through her thick fur and wraps around her nose, a calming sensation.
When she does catch a hint of a smell—something familiar—she angles herself toward it almost without thinking. When she comes across the elk, she pauses, confusion washing across her feline face until she catches sight of the mismatched eyes. She stands still as he moves toward her as the giant prey, observing the jagged scar of his throat and battling the instinctual desire to rip it apart along the same seams.
Instead she remains until he finally says her name. She laughs quietly, shifting into her other form and shaking the dust from her black coat. “Do I strike you as the kind to enjoy talking about it?” Of course, he doesn’t know her that well, but she assumes he’s picked up enough details about her to understand that much. Enough that she rolls a shoulder. “Walking would be infinitely preferable. Even if you don’t die.”
A hint of humor as she eyes the elk, feeling a hunger roil in her belly that she promptly ignores.
she said a war ain't a war before both sides bleed