The cat was not known for fleeing the scene, but he left destruction in his wake and was content to extricate himself before anything could run afoul of his good spirits; he was aching and bloody when he stumbled his way across the hills, seeking the forest and the surrounding valley for shelter while he rested for the night and tended to his wounds. If luck was on his side, the wolves of the valley would not pursue him — and so it came to be that Zugzwang was huddled in the woods for the night.
He did not sleep much; fits and starts, an hour or two at a time and that was enough. The night was always his greatest asset and his body had been drawn to a more nocturnal lifestyle for many years. It was only recently, as he came to these wilds in search of a woman, that he became crepuscular - it played havoc on his system, and likely was one of the reasons he was so volatile. So when night fell he went back to his old routine, and struggled to sleep.
It was fortunate (for him at least) that he was awake when a dark shape came hobbling by; the movement caused him to snap-to, alert and dangerous (common traits for any wounded animal). He was lucky too, that the creature he spied was an older thing. He could tell by their gait that their hips ached, and when the wind thrilled him with their scent he learned more - that they were indeed quite weak, infirm. Age played a part. There was a mustiness that reminded him of old grass or dust.
He slowly unfurled his sleeping figure and dropped from the tree that had been suspending him, landing with a thump across the back of @Phyllis, who never saw it coming. The crack of her bones rocked the grove for a split-second — and he was reminded of a riddle his mother once told him.
He did not sleep much; fits and starts, an hour or two at a time and that was enough. The night was always his greatest asset and his body had been drawn to a more nocturnal lifestyle for many years. It was only recently, as he came to these wilds in search of a woman, that he became crepuscular - it played havoc on his system, and likely was one of the reasons he was so volatile. So when night fell he went back to his old routine, and struggled to sleep.
It was fortunate (for him at least) that he was awake when a dark shape came hobbling by; the movement caused him to snap-to, alert and dangerous (common traits for any wounded animal). He was lucky too, that the creature he spied was an older thing. He could tell by their gait that their hips ached, and when the wind thrilled him with their scent he learned more - that they were indeed quite weak, infirm. Age played a part. There was a mustiness that reminded him of old grass or dust.
He slowly unfurled his sleeping figure and dropped from the tree that had been suspending him, landing with a thump across the back of @Phyllis, who never saw it coming. The crack of her bones rocked the grove for a split-second — and he was reminded of a riddle his mother once told him.
If a wolf falls in the forest but doesn't make a sound, does anybody care?he whispered against the back of her head, and then with careful steps he removed himself from the crushed carcass — the subtle, silent movements punctuated by her final panicked gasps as her lungs filled with blood.
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Messages In This Thread
tell the world before it happens - by Zugzwang - December 02, 2018, 07:23 PM
RE: tell the world before it happens - by RIP Phyllis - December 02, 2018, 07:28 PM