Firefly Glen [PHE] the type that makes me feel old

many times sobeille had nearly been bested, but this was new territory for her. pressed against the dirt, with the freshwater man's breath spilling hot against her fur, sobeille's face burned with humiliation.

his threat did not go unheeded -- and she wondered, from a position of pure futility as he pressed against her spine -- how long it would take his own pretty eye to wither and turn inward upon her mantle.

she was lucky to be collected before he tore into her. her aunt and kukutux came to her side immediately; both of their faces conveying an expression of shame. but sobeille felt no shame for her actions -- only the bewildering fury they did not see from her perspective and know that what she had done was just.

a grudge, then -- first for the man who interfered. and then for etienne -- who she watched busily treat her enemies as if she was not right there! once more she felt dismay for the men of her species.

why have you done this?

sobeille's rueful gaze turned upon moonwoman and saw, not for the first time, that the tribe she so desperately wished to fit in with had no place for her. even her aunt's look made sobeille's heart sequester; they did not understand her.

they never would.

murderer. the dance of her vengeful eyes fell upon cygnet. a riot of red drenched cygnet's fresh-cut face, her eye sunken in with an explosive texture of colors, liquids, matter. sobeille licked the blood from her chin and mentally framed that moment; the artistic brush-strokes of brilliant red, the brutal hues of dark mahogany and visceral mauve matted down by clots of seeping humor -- all painting a tapestry of violence that was her magnum opus.

how much prettier could it have been, if she had not gotten caught! her ugly leer towards cygnet said it all.

but she said nothing, for there was little to be said and they would not understand her anyway.

whisked away from the commotion and tended to in time, sobeille added another face to her list.