blood soaks the snow in swaths of glistening crimson.
it is still falling, not hard; a gentle dusting of flakes in the gathering darkness, so that the little light there is to see by Is further veiled in grey. against the ground the doe still struggles weakly where she has fallen, the snow so dark around her it is almost black, her belly yawning open like a hungry mouth, limp, coiled ropes of intestine dangling from the gaping wound.
her head has long since fallen back, neck stretched in a graceful arc at odds with the awkward angles of her legs, the broken bone gleaming in the light. even when caw draws close she can only kick weakly in reply; when he lowers his head, lips already rimed with blood, and sinks his teeth into the meat of her ribcage she makes a faint, desperate noise that dies immediately in the wind, the halting movements of her chest speeding only briefly back up.
in the empty quiet of the snow-strewn field, the sound of tearing muscle and skin might as well be a wolf’s howl. if anyone is to come, though, caw welcomes them.
behind him, there is the rustle of wings.
caw’s ears flick back, but he remains unmoving, swallowing down mouthfuls of fur and flesh, trailing ribbons of skin and meat from his teeth. when the crow lands beside him, he gives it a quick sideways glance and shifts a fraction, allowing the bird to move forward and strip her own meal from the dying animal.
“good evening,” caw says cheerfully, mouth half-full. blood drips from his lips and into the snow already saturated with red, soaks into the pale fur of his forepaws, lukewarm against his skin.
avis brushes a wing against his side as she settles down to eat. for a moment caw lets the silence stretch, and in it, the doe gives a too-heavy exhale. his ears twitch forward, blood-bright eyes settling on her ribcage – watching, rapt, as the breath leaves her, and her body stills.
it is still falling, not hard; a gentle dusting of flakes in the gathering darkness, so that the little light there is to see by Is further veiled in grey. against the ground the doe still struggles weakly where she has fallen, the snow so dark around her it is almost black, her belly yawning open like a hungry mouth, limp, coiled ropes of intestine dangling from the gaping wound.
her head has long since fallen back, neck stretched in a graceful arc at odds with the awkward angles of her legs, the broken bone gleaming in the light. even when caw draws close she can only kick weakly in reply; when he lowers his head, lips already rimed with blood, and sinks his teeth into the meat of her ribcage she makes a faint, desperate noise that dies immediately in the wind, the halting movements of her chest speeding only briefly back up.
in the empty quiet of the snow-strewn field, the sound of tearing muscle and skin might as well be a wolf’s howl. if anyone is to come, though, caw welcomes them.
behind him, there is the rustle of wings.
caw’s ears flick back, but he remains unmoving, swallowing down mouthfuls of fur and flesh, trailing ribbons of skin and meat from his teeth. when the crow lands beside him, he gives it a quick sideways glance and shifts a fraction, allowing the bird to move forward and strip her own meal from the dying animal.
“good evening,” caw says cheerfully, mouth half-full. blood drips from his lips and into the snow already saturated with red, soaks into the pale fur of his forepaws, lukewarm against his skin.
avis brushes a wing against his side as she settles down to eat. for a moment caw lets the silence stretch, and in it, the doe gives a too-heavy exhale. his ears twitch forward, blood-bright eyes settling on her ribcage – watching, rapt, as the breath leaves her, and her body stills.
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Messages In This Thread
like winter we are cruel - by Krár - March 01, 2018, 07:34 PM
RE: like winter we are cruel - by Hydra - March 01, 2018, 07:47 PM
RE: like winter we are cruel - by Krár - March 01, 2018, 10:16 PM