Endless Fire

Hatred. Hatred. Hatred. Flooding. Hatred. Desire. Hatred.

"Damn spring. Vaffanculo. And this bloody heat, too," the woman muttered, crouched lone atop one of the rocks in the Rustling Thicket. Stupid mud wouldn't come off, and she had to find puddles in the rocks in an attempt to get it off, but now there was not much clean water on the rocks and she was sick and tired of the mud. Why couldn't she just hide in her den? Oh wait. What den? It was gone now. "Damn spring," she muttered again.

And on top of that, her paw stung like hell. She accidentally cut it on one of the rocks - it wasn't deep, but it stung, and mud was bad and she didn't want to get mud in it. So she washed it in a puddle then licked it clean. Oh, by the way, mud tasted nasty. It took forever to get the taste out of her mouth. It was so gritty and terrible and... ew. Nope.

Growling, Lillianna shifted again, tucking all paws under her and her tail between her legs. She couldn't even get comfortable on this bloody rock, and it was an utter pain. Literally.

Ugh, she just wanted to kill something. But there was mud. And nastiness.

"Speech"