Dirty Paws

*Eos* · 04-12-2013, 02:12 AM

The silvered vixen remained content with her fragile posture, fruitful womb swollen beneath her spine, the dwindling stench of cooking lives arousing a bristle beneath the folds of the teenagers ochre skin. Feminine skull raised, nostrils quivering with an apparent distaste as the leisurely behemoth gracelessly modified her sprawled carcass, fa?ade shifting to allow her gaze to fall upon the flesh of her russet company. So brittle, so bare. How did this imprudent woman find such relaxation in her meager posture? In her weighted, handicapped, swollen state, any wolf could swoop; could tear the life from her abdomen, and the heart from her chest. But her confidence remained unwavering, a sense of carelessness inflaming the summer air that enveloped the trio. Stupid or wise? The youth hadn?t yet decided.

If it hadn?t been for the royal?s suggestion at departure, Eos probably would have been half way across the falls by now; but defiance coiled the most intimate threads of her mind, begging her body to stay, infecting her chest with the determination to do exactly what the lady didn?t want her to do. Why? Weakness was something the yearling loathed, her brain incapable of mercy unless earnt, her soul so uncultivated and liberated it morphed the sanity within her psyche. The babe of Alacritis? longest reigning King, Eos had always been resolute to expand into a she-wolf crafted of everything the world hadn?t predicted; determined to be everything her family hadn?t planned. Following the premeditated path of life was hardly thrilling, the lady wanting nothing more than to stray from the sidewalk of the world; to engulf her body in the swirling wonders of unknown.

?Oh, It suits me far more to watch a babe-swollen doe subject herself to the unmerciful palms of the world; does the unknowing not fright you, miss?? it seemed the youth had found her voice again, though expressions still an untiring vacancy. ?Remember, a hunter can quickly become the hunted,? tones flickered with eerie suggestion, taunt. The swirling greens of her windows crawled with an undiscovered darkness, a fragility that exposed her mind to an underworld that didn?t yet exist. Goodness still clutched desperately at her ribcage, though the events of her past were enough to threaten stability. Calantha?s response to the proud wallower sent a fizzing sense of humiliation down the tapers of the banshee?s vertebrae. Weakness effervesced within every twist of her salmon tongue, pooled against her ebony lips and spilled mechanically at her feet. Eos shuddered, ?Have you no pride of your own?? voice was low, barely a furtive murmur against the steady moan of shifting waters.

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