Bramblepoint i take my whiskey neat

for @Ryūjirō <3

the orchard unfolds like a trap disguised—lush, overripe, and muggy with the scent of spring's breath gone stale. the press of her paws are muted beneath tangled bramble and soft rot. here, even the sweetness had teeth.

she moves as smoke and silk through the dappled grasses, too precise to be wandering. she stops at a large shrub, bedecked in berries that glisten like jewels.

there, her claws delicately part a curtain of blackberry vines, their thorns tugging halfheartedly at her fur. she ignores them.

beneath the clusters, something catches her eye. small berries—lustrous and dark, almost black, and kissed with a sheen of deep blue. not the kind one reaches for on a hungry day.

she reaches for one.