four cubs commanded the dens -- but one of them presently was asleep. her little nose twitched, her sightless eyes drummed beneath still clenched eyelids. her limbs, jelly-like and stumpy, tattooed their own beat against the earth.
she dreamed.
a bumble bee droned above a bed of lavender.
the afternoon was hazy. a sleepy lull fell over the forests, golden shafts of sunlight dappling the carpet of pinestraw below.
a legion of creatures besides wolves thrummed to life. threads of tiny mycelium made their mark on indelibly dark earth. an army of ants marched towards the east. a weevil bored through the broad face of an oak leaf, while the gals inside feasted on the paralyzed fruit of spiders.
a world older than time hummed in that little section of forest, forgotten by all save the small beings which called its order their home.
not even a few hours old and death had knocked upon her door. miette turned in her sleep, belly facing the den's roof. rosalyn's spirit had been chased from this world, while miette's had taken its first greedy gasp.
outside the den a swarm of flies took wing in a black throng. beneath the beating of their frenzied wings sat the ugly grimace of a freshly deceased fox.
she dreamed.
* * *
a bumble bee droned above a bed of lavender.
the afternoon was hazy. a sleepy lull fell over the forests, golden shafts of sunlight dappling the carpet of pinestraw below.
a legion of creatures besides wolves thrummed to life. threads of tiny mycelium made their mark on indelibly dark earth. an army of ants marched towards the east. a weevil bored through the broad face of an oak leaf, while the gals inside feasted on the paralyzed fruit of spiders.
a world older than time hummed in that little section of forest, forgotten by all save the small beings which called its order their home.
* * *
not even a few hours old and death had knocked upon her door. miette turned in her sleep, belly facing the den's roof. rosalyn's spirit had been chased from this world, while miette's had taken its first greedy gasp.
outside the den a swarm of flies took wing in a black throng. beneath the beating of their frenzied wings sat the ugly grimace of a freshly deceased fox.
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they'll never take my power. - by Sobeille - June 18, 2023, 05:06 PM