Porcupine Ridge Crafted, holy, rolling thunder

Tattered ears splayed to the side as her gaze narrowed. Thinking it is just as bad..

It's f-fine to say you don't like it.. don't like me, her mind said silently, but she'd dismiss the thoughts with a quick shake of her head, let em' rattle around in there, shoo! go' way.

Many a night had gone by in that cold, with only other unfortunates to snuggle up to. Find some pile, bury yourself in it. Lord knows mama wasn't givin' up any body heat, n' daddy was a bit too dead to offer much. In that void she sought for things to fill it, always seeking, always filling.

It was so strange not to have that crutch anymore, much less learn to be considerate of others for all their intricacies. She found herself wanting to know more and more and more. A metaphorical paw reached out to try and dig the secrets from his brawny hide.

What'do I say? Incoming? She'd snicker, if only to ease the tension from her own shoulders. Tense was no good, she needed to go go go. She let her paws fall up, down, up, down.

..Washin' it prolly gets that bloodsmell off it, or any dirt. Or maybe they just wanted to give it one last swim... She amused herself, trailing off into empty air.