Cricket Creek Bog if lies were cats you'd be a litter

despite all that had happened to her, there was still a goodness in her -- she no longer believed of the benevolence of the world, but still wanted to believe in her benevolence within. she was repulsed as she drew closer and felt his breath against her fur, his words form syllables of small stirrings of air that rifled through her at-end fur and settled around her skin like a noose.

what he spoke of broke the last tentative bit of goodwill indra had in her; with a hurt snarl she suddenly pushed against him as hard as her little body could and immediately pulled away with sobbing gasps. she would find no solace in his presence, no joy in his words -- they cut her deeper than ithrik's teeth ever had and part of her wilted beneath their cruel intonation.

she was running before she knew it, choking back the tears that stung her face in the cold air. the wind was raw as it raked across her face. whether or not he followed she did not know - she only knew of the hate that burned smokily in her heart, and the sudden sense of irremediable instinct that stirred her blood and called action to run - run harder than she ever had before.