The Tangle you love me but you don’t know [m]e

marking as mature only because cerulean is going into heat.  set after her thread with prophet

much was on her mind as she traversed the twisted landscape.  

she was glad to be on her way home.  only weeks ago, she wasn’t certain that anywhere would feel like home again. but she liked the druids. they had welcomed her, housed her, cared for her sisters. at first she had been apprehensive; her first trial as an ambassador had stolen what little energy she had at the time, but they had been merciful in allowing cerulean her freedom since. 

there was no better life she could have asked for.

she wove gracefully through the vines, careful to avoid the thorns, when she smelled blood. her blood. as she realized what was happening she knew she could not afford to sightsee.  concerned, she quickened her pace, and the next thing she knew her face was on the the ground.

she had slipped.  when she tried to stand she found that she couldn’t balance; one of her hind feet was looped by a vine. 

her teeth began to make quick work of it; soon, she would be free.