Post by LOONFROST on Oct 14, 2016 3:32:57 GMT
the stillness enveloped her. it tugged at her fur, scratched at her, begged for her to get lost within it. each echo of a sound drew her attention as if it were a calamity. the faint skitter of a mouse or the flutter of a bird was as loud and roaring as a monster. the mild crunch underfoot of slightly browned grass was a crackling bolt of lightning.
it was before dawn. a frost has settled the night before and the sun had yet to show its warm face. she had left to hunt early. but it didn’t feel early. perhaps the sun was just late today. perhaps it would not come up today, but leave the shivering inhabitants desperate for warmth and isolated in the darkness. “don’t be stupid.” a bitter hiss under her breath. the sun would always come up. it would always set again in the evenings. the cycle was eternal. static. perpetual. like her.
she was aware that she was creature of habit. she found her habit, a niche, and she would be stuck. loonfrost was comfortable and it was dangerous. comfort, she had determined, was dangerous. it was normal and comfortable for her to do things alone. now, she was stuck. stuck in this pit of loneliness and isolation and there was no visible way to get out. not that she was even trying. she was comfortable. it was easy not to try. it was easy just to let things happen and not interfere.
loonfrost had been assigned the dawn hunting patrol. she decided to get a head start. her patrol mates would probably be angry that she didn’t wait for them. or they wouldn’t care at all. “they know what i’m like.” her voice was soft, her tone was sharp. she breathed and looked east. faint peaks of yellow and gold touched over the horizon.
perhaps they would look for her. “no.” she dismissed the thought. it didn’t matter anyway. she had already been successful in catching one fish. it was too cold for her to continue, however, and decided to try her luck with something land-based. the scent of a vole had crossed her nose. she had followed it from the riverbank, but she was distracted. it had scuttled away. she reprimanded herself and paused. loonfrost truthfully didn’t mind, she thought voles were gross, but with leafbare in sight, the clan needed everything it could get.
it was almost dawn now. her clanmates will be waking; rolling sleepily out of their nests and dragging their tails out of their dens. she wondered what they would think, seeing her nest empty. maybe they wouldn’t notice. or care. she yawned. “doesn’t matter.” she did her duty. it was enough, wasn’t it?
