waterworld

pasha no y u try 4 escape

Though there had been storms that caressed the mountain throughout the summer, this was by far the worst that Pasha had lived through thus far. And though there were far and few guarantees he would continue to survive — such being natural life and law — he could not help but feel a certain tension and invigoration rising from the peak of the storm that had come wildly to their home.

The strike of lightning to the treetops they resided beneath was deafening. It was confusing. He had yelped out when the bolt came from the dark skies, though the sound was lost to the earth quaking and the roar of power so much stronger than anything they could have physically performed. He had pressed his growing body against the curve of his mother's belly, somewhere squashed cleanly between his siblings. Their warmth was of little comfort to him in the resulting chaos — the boy felt the urge to bolt and scatter, find somewhere that was much more safer than their exposed environment.

Yet in the tangle of limbs ahead and behind him, Pasha could not escape. He scrambled and writhed, lashing out momentarily at one of his siblings in the form of a hard bite. Move! it demanded, and once more as he bit roughly at the foreleg of his mother. Move! He dared to find a way of escape, willing his lanky youth to slip out into the darkness of the night and through the storm.