Willows
05-19-2020, 04:30 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-19-2020, 04:44 AM by Malalia.)
There wasn't much she could say to that, and she simply gave a sympathetic twitch of her ears as she kept her head on her paws. She thought that she might be angry, if she were in Cairo's paws. Angry, disappointed, frustrated about the whereabouts of his father, that missing part of his history, of his family. And maybe he was to some degree, but if he was, the man hid it well.
When she awoke later, she caught Cairo's single eye. She mimicked him by closing one of her own and waggled her brows at him. After a few minutes she huffed, and drew herself up to stand with a small shake that rippled along her back and ended in a flick of her tail. "I'll be back soon," she murmured. "Soonish. Taking a walk." Mal crossed their little campsite and went deeper into the willows, heading north.
The warmth of the fire slowly dissipated as she moved off, and the chill returned, hailing the coming season. The moonlight shifted over her pelt, coming through in bits and pieces as she moved in the shadows beneath the trees. Her ears flicked at the night sounds, the whisper of wind brushing through the tendrils. Her paws took her back to the willow with a bubbling stream that trickled alongside it, the one whose upturned roots she'd bedded down between, when she first came to these woods. Tentatively, she sniffed at it, before circling and settling into the nook. She'd had trouble sleeping then, too. Even in the fog her mind had been in, after... somehow, everything found its way to her slumbering hours. She'd wake up exhausted and twitchy, and drag herself onwards.
When Sirius found her, took her in, the fog cleared. Mal had latched onto him, feeling the first semblance of security she'd had in ages. That first night, paws muddied and caked in dirt from digging out her den, she'd slept well, happy and undisturbed. After a few weeks, her dreams became restless again. She thought that she'd made herself anxious, throwing herself into her lessons. That was probably the reason, right? But after today, she wasn't so sure.
The Valhallan was incredibly sharp. It made their interactions unexpected: fun in one heartbeat, and frustrating in the next, when he'd pinned down some part of her she hadn't even given. Particularly that part about running. Mal narrowed her eyes and turned over on her back, glaring up at the canopy. That comment had seemed very directed at her, hadn't it? And she was flat out uncomfortable. It was like he was holding a mirror up to her worst parts, and she didn't want to look. The days were easier, with their distractions, and at least she was unconscious when she slept. But these moments, awake and alone with her thoughts, were maddening. She just wanted to stop feeling so bad.
Mal exhaled slowly, picking out the moon behind the treetops.
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