Bearclaw Valley now that i'm old, i breathe for it

she listened attentively as the cat spoke; the words seemingly genuine at first until they grew in their sarcastic measure. a cold pall came over indra and she eyed the cat with a strange dull stare.

perhaps it was the pain that roused indra. or the frustration having been cooped up. certainly it was not sweet indra that rose then but a different indra - colder, angrier -- an indra out of her mind and well out of her comfort zone.

she was tired of the meanness of the world. sick of the way wolves treated each other. her edges once soft were now calloused. her heart once open, was now closed.

she rose as quick as her injury let her and with a snarl fell upon the cat with her jaws parted and front legs splayed out to strike her. to push her back and to hurt her and to do to this stupid cat what so many people had done to her: steamroll right over her. "fuck you." she spat, her voice snarled by anger.

certainly kind little indra was kind no longer: in her place was an implacable, feral creature that indra both felt fear and delight to witness course through her.