Lost Creek Hollow Once I Get a Grip

; O ;

Tell him a different story.

He could do nothing but listen.
What else could he do?

Through the humiliation of it- of being reminded of every foul decision he'd made, and how he did not believe he would fit in a place so destined for good as she spoke of, he withstood through it. She could not know. Even worse, she did not know how when she spoke, he felt a stab through his chest that twisted and turned, marking his arteries. In moments, he'd felt a burden of an out of body experience, as if he were not there, and she were not there, and as if every word she spoke was on a screen he couldn't touch. A rabbit.

A rabbit.

If he did not believe in the gods, perhaps he'd questioned a flicker of faith if they'd been mocking him. A disbelief click of his throat could be heard, his head coming to a lift as he examined her unknowing features. Even now, it came back to him. Why? Why was this one action berating him? Why out of his faults, out of everything he'd done, out of the filthy behaviors he'd exhibited in his youth towards the notion of life itself, was it all leading back to her?

A woman with more than he would ever have.
If there were Gods, he did not understand what they wanted from him but to smite him.

He came back in mind. With a crawling turn of his head, soft, curious, unsure, unsettled eyes placed on Shadowpup.

The world would ensure he did this, wouldn't it?

Relentlessly.

"Sure, kid."

Why did it burn?

"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, I'll do that. Maybe, ah. Starclan will like that." Or something.