November 25, 2024, 12:01 AM
(This post was last modified: November 25, 2024, 12:02 AM by Machiavelli.)
The journey was marked, at least on the dog’s part, by a simmering, ill-tempered silence. He spoke only when necessity demanded it, each reply or observation more short than the last. Hackles raised, tail lashing in agitated arcs more befitting a cat than a hound, every minor inconvenience seemed magnified tenfold in the dog's mind. A snagged paw, an errant branch slapping against his thin frame, the uneven rhythm of his pawsteps—each trivial annoyance stoked the embers of his foul mood until it reached the point where it seemed the frost that clung stubbornly to the edges of the foliage underpaw might melt from the heat of the dog's anger alone.
Machi had deliberately set himself apart from the Mazoi, marching ahead just enough to keep the guard within earshot but not close enough to suffer his presence. When he finally slowed, it was with a sharp exhale, leaning against a tree with breaths that came in heavy puffs.
The leg had begun its rebellion miles ago, an ache he’d stubbornly shoved down into irrelevance. Now, however, it refused all compromise, the traitorous limb so stiff it might as well have been carved from wood rather than flesh, and the ache that radiated through it had begun to spread, its radius quickly doubled by the cold—his hips stiffened, his back tightened, and every step sent a jolt through him.
He held the chilly air in his lungs for a moment before releasing it in a slow breath, the icy mist pooling from his nose. His ears flicked, their tips stung by the cold, as they caught the faint murmur of water somewhere ahead. A stream, perhaps, though the thought offered little comfort. Still, he straightened and trudged forward, seeking out the source.
Machiavelli pulled his head from the frigid water, icy droplets falling from his chin like diamonds as his tongue passed over his muzzle. His gaze flicked upward through the bare branches and into the sullen, winter-grey sky, thoughts unreadable as he waited for Meseba.
I don’t believe in God, but I believe that you’re my savior
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Messages In This Thread
You Know my Desire - by Machiavelli - November 25, 2024, 12:01 AM
RE: You Know my Desire - by Meseba - November 30, 2024, 05:56 PM