straight shot no chaser

She was still displeased with him. For the umpteenth time, he had said the wrong thing, and upset his master. The ebony male watched her chest rise, fall, and rise again a few times. “I think.. It would be best if you came with me.” she finally said. His ears, previously having flicked upwards to capture the sound of her voice, tipped back again submissively. Of course, she wanted him close by. To keep an eye on him better, certainly. He nodded his head a few times, silently agreeing. Words didn't seem to be his strong suit, so he decided against making more of a fool of himself. “Lie on the Coyote coat.” she said softly, rising to her paws.

He eased his aching limbs underneath himself, and rose to his paws. The very act of standing made his head spin with vertigo, but he swallowed the sensations down. He wanted to do what he was told, and make the woman happy. Seeing the tight pull of her lips, revealing just a bit of her teeth, and the way her eyes fought not to squeeze tightly shut, it was distressing. She shouldn't feel such pain because of him. Stupid boy, you're all wrong. Widow's voice returned again, admonishing his poor behaviour. “Lie flat, ground your weight.” she added, standing before him. The dark male felt awestruck, staring at her. She was a glorious sight, in the late autumn sun. Full of willpower and unwavering determination.

He settled a little too heavily on the pelt, body all but collapsing upon itself at the meagre task. He arranged his limbs so they all fit onto the small surface area of the pelt, making sure he was well balanced. Epitaph didn't want to impede the plots by falling over or tipping too much to one side or another. Just like that, she took the edge of the pelt in her teeth and began to drag him across the ground. Hot shame tripped down his spine, knowing full well that he was too weak to walk this far on his own, but nagged by that same notion. He would never be good enough to be anything but a simple slave, in a world where he didn't belong.

Between the soft breaths of his master-but-not-really and the subtle shifts in the landscape, the time passed quickly. Before Epitaph knew it, they were slowing. Was she getting tired? He should volunteer to walk. Ebon lips parted to offer just that, when they began to slip down a light incline into the ground. "Oh!" the sound was punched out of him, entirely beyond his control. Just like that, he was safely enveloped in the warmth of the earth. When he ceased to move any further, he was settled in the middle of a large burrow. It smelled strongly of feminine musk, familiar by now. “You can sleep here.” his new not-master announced, standing up straight. It was a truly massive den, if she had such room to move about comfortably. The wisp couldn't help but glance around curiously. The soft huff of ragged breathing was all that punctuated the silence, as Epitaph drank it all in.

“Make yourself at home, and i’ll grab us some breakfast from the kill pile.” she said warmly. Finally, the male's attention was dragged back to her. He sought to rise on shaky legs, but ultimately failed. He was all tangled up in his own limbs. Instead, he tried to smile at her. He was out of practice, if he'd ever had any to begin with. "Thank you, ma'am." he whispered.