I may tell you to run
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01-05-2022, 06:54 PM
Ivy was starting to realize that his mother wasn't coming back. She hadn't been in their den, she hadn't been... here. The weight of that realization was enough to crease his brow to a furrow, was enough to make him... what was that feeling in his chest? Sad. It was sadness and anger in the same breath. Why did she leave? Why wasn't she coming back? Where was Alfrún? The concept of death isn't something that the young pup really understood. Bedtime had come and gone, and Ivy had slept... some. Not enough. Not nearly enough, but there was an aching between his ribs. At once, it seemed that the den he shared with his father and siblings was stifling. Too hot. Too many bodies. Too close together. No. Ivy was awake, and he was too warm. Ivy was awake and he didn't want to be. As quietly as he could, he disentangled himself from the mass of bodies within their den. He stumbled on clumsy paws out of the den, just to the doorway. To the doorway and just a bit to the side, so he wouldn't be visible in the low light of the moon. It was a warm summer evening, humidity hanging around his shoulders like a curse. Something felt off. Felt wrong. Alfrún's absence weighed more and more heavily on him as time went by. In an effort to self soothe, the pup found himself singing quietly to himself in a child's tenor. It was one of her Icelandic lullabies, his favorite. Ivy didn't know (at least not yet) what the words translated to, but it sounded ever so frightful. He couldn't help but to love it. |