Walking on Broken Glass
12-11-2014, 07:33 PM
She appeared slowly but intentionally, resulting in a quiver that shot up and down his spine. He breathed in a sharp intake of breath as she slowed her pace. He knew he could likely outrun her, as she seemed extremely pregnant. Still, fear crept into him and gripped him from every angle, stiffening his bodice in it's clutch. His ears clung tighter to his skull, and his eyes widened with alarm. He breathed slowly, purposely - as if he might forget how. She opened with a question, and her voice brought some part of him back, some part of his youth - a better time than this. He held his breath as she continued. She thought she knew him. It was highly unlikely, but as he wracked his brain he had the sudden suspicion that he knew her too. He thought to tell her who he was, but all that came out was a strained and uncertain “Cassius.” He couldn't remember the last time he'd been asked his name. The others hadn't ever cared to know it. They called him whatever they liked, whatever suited them and their wavering moods. The girl, she looked so familiar. She appeared even younger than he, and clearly very, very pregnant. He knew his parents had had another litter, and he had gotten lost not too long after their weaning. Could she have been one of them? It seemed a logical enough guess. He remembered their names, and decided that she must be the girl from his parent's second litter: Isolde. However, he would not ask her her name, and instead remained quiet. His tail tip twitched nervously, out of her sight as it was buried between his front paws. “speak,” |
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