What's A Bad Word?

*Cyanide* · 02-25-2022, 02:32 AM

Across the beaches of each island in the chain, Cyanide raced. She would learn each and every one, figuring out how they felt beneath her paws. There was a satisfying ache and burn in her muscles, finding the way that the sand gave beneath each step to be equal parts satisfying and maddening. Damn, if she was going to stay, she'd need to get stronger. She'd need to get faster. She'd need to become more accustomed to the way that the beach seemed to pitch and roll. That, and Cy would need to build up strength in her ankles. As it stood, they seemed to threaten to give in or give out with every single long stride. Still... part of it felt good. Imagine that. Though there were shades of soreness and even pain some days, she didn't hate it. No, it was hard work. It was hard work that felt good.

In learning the lay of the islands, Cyanide finds herself paying more attention to the big picture of the beaches rather than the details. Of the details that have escaped her today happened to be a clump of tree roots. She'd been concerned with the beach as a whole, and keeping an eye out for intruders or other irregularities that it seemed the clump had reared up and knocked her over out of basically nowhere. Cy grumbled to herself, growling, flailing in the soft sand as she attempted to right herself. "Ah son of a bitch, fucker, shit... ow, shit," the steady ebb and flow of choice words for her situation. As the darkly colored girl rolled over, she carefully stretched her paw. It was tender, that's for sure. Better to give it a couple minutes, then.

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