Waiting

[Élodie Fortescue]

((Thanks for the info. I'll look into asking for a table. ))

She crawled forward to meet his hand, propelling herself by using her hind legs to push her upper half across the grass. By the time she had reached him, she had expended the last of her strength. She realized that she had already surpassed the limits of the physically possible and the fatigue was taking a great toll on her already weak body; however, she kept her tail wagging, --and reached up to brush her crown against the wolf's worn palm, indicating that she meant no harm and was ready for whatever he dealt to her.

She was panting heavily, and during the brief intervals between her convulsions, she knew no rest. She was always in action: if she found no strength to wag her tail, she compensated by giving a low whine, and even when her voice failed her, she would lift the corners of her mouth in a grimacing smile. I understand. Her large amber eyes, more so luminous in the greying light of early noon, betrayed an intelligence that almost belied her underlying ferocity. If she wished to snap, she no longer could summon the strength. She was driving on sheer willpower, and even though wolves were known to be incredibly stubborn creatures, her body was wasting away at too fast a rate. Before long, the iron of her muscles would be reduced to string, and her bones would scatter in the wind as dust and ash. Help me, came the soft cry of her corrupting flesh. Save me, whispered her eyes.