Bearclaw Valley [m] go back to sleep

sobeille was just superstitious enough to think if a loa guarded athalia, she was born in the wrong place. her attention fell to the brittle bones athalia studied; sobeille knew the anatomy that once wrapped around those bones intimately, and flexed her own paw as if she could see every tendon and ligament’s shifting relation within.

athalia revealed something so intriguing. now sobeille truly wished for the power to close her eyes and see within — not just gristle and viscera — but feelings and thoughts too. what did athalia see? what did she feel?

her fur stood on end as suddenly the bruingirl moved, her muzzle tracing the blackened end of sobeille’s ear. it defied every instinct sobeille had to allow a predator’s mouth so close to her face. she stiffened, and turned her head towards the bruingirl’s jaw.

another sensation rippled through her, equally surprising. equally nameless. sobeille introspectively examined it for a moment before she recognized the blood pounding her temple. don’t touch me, she instructed, settling a foot away where she would not feel compelled to stroke the raven-black of athalia’s fur. where she would not be compelled to wonder of the redness beneath, or how beautiful the garland of red would be speckled across a canvas of black —

she straightened. dis loa be protectin’ you — or dis place mebbe. mebbe dat is why you be seein’ t’ings. she lowered her head, her voice hushed. one time, i saw a ghost in de sound below. no one believed me, but i saw ‘er — and worse — an’ she saw me. an’ she showed me t’ings too. what your loa be showin’ you?