october</style>
if blood is thicker than water, then you'll drown quicker than we intend. </style>
image by Csutkaa @ flickr.com</style>
October pushes against the warm wicked wind. Her white-tipped nostrils flare as to remember and feel his sent. Absentmindedly, the child turns and creeps after the fleeing gale, her heart eagerly throbbing for his return. After a few quick paces, all turns back to her brain as she stares off into the winding forest, uncertain as to where her father’s spirit has gone. She returns to her magic, and feels his dead corpse within the rotting leaves of the Woodlands. Within home, seemingly millions of miles away. She wonders if his spirit has returned undisturbed in his ash-turning body.
The girl’s eyes spin around one last time, landing softly on the floor of her new forest. She scratches her head against a pine as she thinks. One long since tear drops from under her eyelid and sputters against a leaf. That is not the only sound she hears. Her head whips to the left, and her body follows slowly and her wet eye thrashes in its socket. It stops. And narrows. There is blood, shiny when the moonlight touches it. There is fur that is ruffled by the tugging breeze. And there are eyes, filled to the rim with blue curiosity. The wicked smile runs quick over the surface of her maw, and she lifts a foreleg that pads closer. It is big – whatever it is, and the girl is not afraid. She has the dire feeling to lick the remains from the kitty’s lips, to toss it in between her teeth, to feel its squirming rage under her marked feet.
“Here, Kitty-kitty,” cooing softly from the wicked girl’s tongue. She comes closer by an unnatural instinct. She thinks that she can tame it with her seductive tongue and gentle touch. She knows it can attack, but somehow the thought doesn’t push any demand. October only thinks the predator will run – that won’t happen.
|
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
