reckless abandon
seasonal prompt/open if you want it
12-27-2021, 03:15 PM
Days had gone by. It was becoming ever so painfully obvious, and ever so ridiculously clear, that Hazel was on her own. They weren’t coming back for her. They wouldn’t come back for her… whatever. Not like she cared. Not like she had to care. Hazel could do this on her own. She could keep herself alive. Heck, maybe she was even better off without parents. Hazel could go wild. She could be wild. And that wildness took her over. Hazel was feral. There were so many possibilities that spread out around her, and that was overwhelming. She could be anything, and she could make herself into anything… absolutely anything. Damn it felt so good. So incredibly many possibilities, and Hazel could do literally anything she wanted. Every last possibility stretched out in front of and behind her… wow. She had no idea what she was even going to do. The spring afternoon was filled with promise. It took her over, and filled her up with all sorts of strange feelings. So many options, so many decisions… Hazel didn’t know what to make of it. Still, there was a warm afternoon sun shining down on her shoulders, and that was enough. That was so incredibly wonderful, and so much more than enough. Would she be enough? Would she be enough for herself? Was she enough to keep herself whole? Was Hazel just faking it? No. No, she really did think she was okay. The pale and red girl was trying her best. Green eyes wide on the falls around her, Hazel realized this was the first time she’d been to the falls. It was pretty here. Her tail wagged as she lowered her head to drink from the cool, running water. The afternoon was getting later and later, and that was okay. Dusk would be coming soon enough. Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst place to pass the night. Maybe… okay, sure. Still, with the fresh water, she’d need to be careful. Running water like this would attract predators. From somewhere not too far off, a yip. Hazel let go a long suffering sigh… again, really? Apparently, really. Another coyote. It wasn’t that far off, and Hazel could smell the thing on the wind. A predator, but of the worst sort. They didn’t even seem dangerous anymore, just annoying. The third encounter in how many days? Hazel grumbled to herself, scenting the air… ah. It was off to the east. Carefully, the pup picked her way down the slippery rocks, not wanting to slip. Once she was on level ground, she reoriented herself. Quietly, Hazel padded across the ground. She was doing her best to pass soundlessly, wanting to go unnoticed by the thing until it was too late for it. If Hazel was lucky, she’d make quick work of it. She bristled, moving carefully across the ground. Glaring, scowling, and honestly more than a bit pissed off. The coyotes such a problem. Hazel was grouchy. She was nearly in striking distance by the time the wind shifted, and the coyote noticed her. An older female, there was something… far away. Far away about the look in the creature’s eyes as they fixed on Hazel. Her blood ran cold. There was something not right about this coyote. For a split second, she froze, green eyes wide. Hazel’s head dropped low, slinking forward, teeth showing. Well, she’d gotten this far, may as well finish the job. The coyote lunged before Hazel did. It was as if the creature was crazed, and that made it sloppy. That was likely for the best, giving the young girl the opportunity to get in a good few strikes. Her teeth, those were the weapon of choice. She snarled. Growled. There was nothing that would hold Hazel back, filled with reckless abandon. Yes, she’d do what she could to keep her teeth dug into the creature. It didn’t taste right. The blood of the creature tasted strangely… off. Like there was an undertone of rot. Like brackish water… no. No, she didn’t like that at all. Hazel spat actively as she fought the coyote, going over and over for the neck and for the side of the beast. She was unchained, unhinged, and angry. A good fight… that was good for all of her pent up bad feelings. There was no strategy, no tact. No, Hazel was just distilled anger. Ferocity came easily to the child. Frighteningly easy. The coyote was unstable on its feet. The pup was able to push it to the ground, snarling. Hazel was big enough to pin it, holding it down while she dealt the final fatal blow. She was panting, stumbling back, stick to her stomach. Another dramatic spit on the ground. Hell that tasted bad. Hazel’s heart was pounding, and she could feel where the coyote had broken skin near her shoulder. Shit. It would probably be bad if that got infected… whatever. At least the threat was neutralized. |
Current time: 11-27-2024, 01:06 AM
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