Sure! Also, fear Una's awkwardness and my terribly translated Cherokee. :|
Word Count → 330
Unatsi wondered what it would be like, to be an animal surrounded by big leafy things that could be food and could not be food, and not knowing which was which. Actually, realistically, he guessed it wouldn’t be like anything, because he’d cease to be, because he’d have starved already. It made him glad that he was a carnivore (more or less) and that food was a lot less complicated, but that didn’t mean this job was simple. All he knew was that there were herbs here, and useless ferns used for decoration or something, and all the plants were waiting for him to just attack them already; he could feel them watching.
“Didanvdo alisdelvdi ayv,” the farmer breathed, and started to hack away.
Had his spirit guide been around, she might have pointed out the approaching hoofbeats, but they were muffled by the soft ground. He might have been able to hear the sound of hooves pulling out of the mud, or the dismount of the luperci, but he ended up stopping anyway, wiping a sweaty paw pad on his fur and taking a deep breath.
The shout nearly caused him to leap out of his skin, and the half-scythe did leap—right out of his hand, where it spun then struck the ground. Meanwhile, Unatsi had half-curled in on himself to make himself seem smaller, his ears flat and his eyes squeezed shut as he expected a smack or similar rebuke. Instead, the squelching footsteps stopped, and a girl’s voice addressed him. As he recognized the sound, he opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head.
“O-oh. Uyo ayelvdi, ayv—avy uha tla adanvtedi gado udsi ayv nanadvnehv,” the scrawny red wolf admitted, stating the obvious. He tried to smile, and managed a sheepish and hopelessly awkward slant of his mouth. “Soquili unigisdi?” he repeated, scratching the back of his neck and staring at the plant, which had somehow managed to dodge most of his attacks. “Heh, osdv onadv.”
Image courtesy of wanderingsoul-stox@deviantART
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