curbside confessions

His cry is shrill to her ears which twist rapidly against her skull, her muzzle swaying uncomfortably from one side to the next. Her nostrils are flared, sucking in air, struggling and her lungs are burning, her mind hazy and clouded and heavy, and she is so certain this is the end of them, well and truly. Just. Stay. Her breath stutters in a shaking sigh, her face turned inward to the tree she has slumped against, granting her support and she draws in a long inhale of air, tainted by the sweet scent of the redwood. She imagines he only tells her to stay out of pity, out of a lacking desire to see her panic attack continue on and she groans quietly, finally twisting her snout to the side to peek an eye open at him as he ushers his final command, causing her lips to purse. She considers defying him simply because she can, her stillness and taut muscles all but prepared to do so, but moments pass as he draws past her, slipping away, and she settles instead for meekly dogging at his heels, her head hanging low between her bony shoulder blades.

Table by Azil