Duck Lake Riveted

Turquoise bristled anew at the accusation, though before she could respond, Rivet launched into another diatribe. Every word annoyed Turq, of course, but it wasn't until the last few that her eyes tightened and her ears flew backward rather than forward. "I need some space!" she'd shouted at Rivet at the end of their fight, right before stomping away without looking back. To have them flung at her now cut right down to the quick somehow.

Abruptly, she felt a wave of guilt crash over her tawny head, which she lowered somewhat. "Riv..." she started, not sure what to say. She wanted to hold onto her righteous anger. She wanted Rivet to apologize first. "I didn't mean..." She had, at the time, and she'd stuck to her guns even when several days had passed and their separation had become a lot more than just momentary. Finally, she gave an inch and acknowledged, "I shouldn't have said that."

The anger faded into the background as the guilt churned in her gut. Both feelings began to recede in the face of something else, though: an immense feeling of attachment. Turquoise gazed at Rivet now, riveted by her familiar face, her eyes burning. She wanted to pull the smaller woman close and hold her, yet she restrained herself, holding very, very still as she waited to see what Rivet would say and do now.