please do not eat this fuzzy pasta noodle
After losing her friend, Ravioli sets out on her own. She has nowhere in particular to go and no friends to turn to. A usual social creature has drifted into a depression of loneliness without a cure. She crosses the paths of a few raccoons but none seem too friendly to open their arms to a stranger and every fox she comes across wants nothing to do with her.
Q-Tip certainly was one of a kind.
Traveling north brings her to the shore, something she’s never seen before, and as the sand opens up before her. The sea is bigger than she can imagine, reaching all the way left and all the way right and alllllllllll the way out in front of her, never ending.
Ravioli sighs, kicking sand beneath her feet. Not even such a wonder can bring her out of the funk as she moves closer to the water, putting her hands in the frothy tide. She does not know the danger the water brings and before she knows it, she’s a little far out and a small wave knocks her down in surprise, followed by another that drags her a few feet back with it. Now wet and disgruntled, she shakes off, standing on all four feet to fling water every which way. Not paying attention causes another wave take crash into her, and another, and then another, and before she knows it, it’s pulled her all the way out where she can’t touch the bottom or catch her breath.
The young raccoon flails and panics and inhales more water, pulling beneath the surface only to not come back up.
Later in the afternoon, when high tide draws back into the ocean, the water spits out a limp, water-logged form of a raccoon. Ragged, gurgling breaths are the only signs of life as one wave after the next pushes her just a little further up until it no longer meets her in the sand.
The world that is not this one is different. Quiet, distance, there’s something—music?—in another room, maybe, but she can’t quite hear the words. The young girl floats through the air like waves, the ocean rolling beneath her. Life begins and ends with the ocean. A wolf curls around her.
Eyes fling open and she coughs, wheezes, and sputters, water spitting from her mouth and dripping from her nose. The salt water burns the insides of her chest and nose and eyes, everything is sore and maybe broken—it definitely hurts—and she hardly realizes she’s encased beneath a protective mother. One hands lifts into the air, then out in front of her to grab something, and only feeling damp fur. A second hand follows and she twists away from the licks, raggedly coughing with the added adrenaline coursing her veins.
When Ravioli does realize it’s a wolf, her eyes widen and she can’t catch her breath enough,
flinging herself back in surprise.
Ravioli used flailing and it was effective enough. She turns over on her side when she realizes the wolf is not around her anymore and she turns her head to search for her. So certain she was dog food, she’d had three heart attacks and maybe she pooped herself a little. When she finds the large canine several feet away, on the ground and on her back, she remains in her awkward position and watches. The former hard wolf features fade away into something narrow and dog-like, friendly and not-so-threatening.
“Am I hallucinating?” she quietly asks (more to herself), and slowly picks herself up onto all fours, the froth of ocean water lapping at her paws.
Okay, well. This is weird.
She rolls over onto her belly and inches forward in the wet sand. Trusting things with Very Big Teeth has never really been her thing but there’s something she can’t place. Her breathing is ragged, wheezing, and she takes a step back when the dark creature is a tad too close.
“Um,” she starts, raspy, water-logged voice. It still hurts to breathe and she winces when a shooting pain surges through her lungs. “Welcome under sea? I didn’t want to be under there,” she angrily points back against the water, wishing she could get out of it instead of sinking back but the encroaching canine gives her limited space to free herself.