|
Fortune had brought her this far, it could carry her on its weary back a little longer. Hemlock was in no mood for her luck to run out at this point, near emotional breakdown and blind with panic. Yes, that's right, the ever-composed Hemlock is losing her nerves to the world, her usually airy gait weary and stumbling, like a lowly creature of the earth. She is one of these lowly creatures, but she would never have known it, with how she preened. She was a swan in her own eyes, but a black swan nonetheless.
Hemlock had hard feet, and for that she was thankful now as she tripped over another large, jagged rock, and stopped to examine her black hoof, inspecting for any damage as her tail lashed over sleek flanks. Irritated.
The next time she lost her balance, fortune washed its hands of the mare and continued on its way, and she rose to biting pain in her left knee. The warm trickle of blood down her leg panicked her even more, and she dawdled for several seconds, heaving. A lack of sleep-deprivation and terror at the sight of her own blood did nothing for her already compromised mind, and the smell of nearby water was the only thing that kept her on her feet.
It was funny, Hemlock mused as she watched a ribbon of red wash down the creek's flow from her leg, how things changed so quickly. Once a valued member of her herd, now chastened and pursued mercilessly until she no longer recognized her surroundings, all because her father was no longer around to protect her. She had been blind to the inner-workings of the hierarchy, and she still did not fully understand them, but she understood enough, as the lamb understands the teeth of the wolf, but not why.
Black hide twitching in the night, she lowered her head to first nose at the cool, babbling water, then parted her lips to drink, white-splotched nose wrinkling.
let me be your ruler
you can call me queen bee
|
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
