Swiftcurrent Creek Under the kitchen lights, you still look like dynamite
i found brimstone in my garden,
i found roses set on fire
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DO YOU WANT TO GO LOOK AT THE FISHES?

it was a cruel trick. cruel and cold like winds on the sea!

unlike Wylla who had been forged in the same irons as Hermes himself, Tiercel was not so anatomically blessed. her knobby legs made for a hairy pursuit over log-rot and waterside stones that, in proportion to herself, might as well have been monoliths. sometimes she disappeared from view, having tripped or stumbled over inconveniently arranged pebbles or tripwire disguised as tree branches littered across the path Wylla easily navigated. it was bullshit. 

she zip-zoomed past most of the efforts made to activate the pathfinder within, ducking under the hands of fir that raked over her spine as she pursued a dicey course alongside the creek. there was clearly very little consideration here for her safety, but that’s rock n roll baby. literally, sometimes. hit a rock and roll into the current baby.

”TEEEEEEWW FAAAAAAAAATHHHH,” she blustered miserably to Wylla, alas, from somewhere in the distance. the  prey in jurassic park didn’t complain as much as her child did on this day, and it was doubtful that her mother would even hear any of her faint quibbles over the tinkle (very serene 10/10) of the creek. by the time the dust kicked up by the grown wolf’s heels had settled, Tiercel had already lost sight of her target to the horizon’s effulgent flare. she brake-checked herself as a deer bounded across the length of the river. ”way der!” she panted out, staring with distracted wonder at the trembling thicket the buck had departed through.  

her head swiveled alertly, eyes scanning the treeline for twinkle-toes. instinctively, her nose dragged the ground as she clipped stumblingly over sedge hummocks and kept the entire neighborhood posted re: Wylla’s unauthorized absence. ”MUUUUUUUMMAAHHHHHH!” visible frustration radiated from her a.her nostrils huffed and dapped the water, finding nothing of immediate interest, and then moved to dry land, then to the trees, until her effort to canvass every inch of approximately three-ish feet paid off—recognition beconed like a sonar echo on her primitive mental chart of Smells And Stuff. using this chart and her nose she was able to faintly trace her parent’s trajectory and follow it away from the creek until the water was just out of sight and Mother was once more a tangible concept instead of lesson in object impermanence, her thin frame wilted into the earth. 

this wasn’t an instantaneous cause for concern, given in the young girl’s mind how many blinks it took to find her here. sooooo many of them. her features lit up as soon as her nose positively verified her identity, pace picking up to a gamely speed as she approached the motionless lump of her mother’s lanky behind. nothing weird about this scene, just a wolf ostriching in the dirt. ”the der.” she wheezed, her brain still buffering the events leading up to her discovery. ”it goes way, osso fath.” why was everyone so fast? was there a trigger for speed boosters she didn’t know about or…

well, acknowledgment would have been nice. Tiercel’s tail waved through the air, her large ears knocking about on her crown as she made a short piaffe to Wylla’s side and yanked her fur, leaping away quickly with the full expectation to be nipped at for her straight-to-business method of inciting a reaction.

”ma, tew tied?” she asked, and when her (explicit) question went unanswered, she backed her rump into some bushes and followed up with a louder, much less patient reiteration of it. say is TEW TIED? her eyes were drawn to the crater-trail, imagination filling in some blanks. if this looney tune extinction event was to be true, then it was straight-up comical how her entrance to life was identical to her mother’s exit from it. 

unable to conceive of death without any prior exposure to the scope of its perseverance, the child simply sat on her butt and boredly kicked a twig into the grass with a sigh that was almost just too dramatic for such little lungs to produce.

she could outstay the irreversible exploits of nature, sure thing no problem.
1/3 threads. lowp, tag 2 manifest
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RE: Under the kitchen lights, you still look like dynamite - by Tiercel - July 30, 2018, 10:06 PM