06-13-2009, 03:20 AM
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300+
Mamma explained that the pretty butterfly wouldn’t be waking up. At first, Amata thought that this must be a game, but her mother’s expression told her other wise. The smile completely faded from the pup’s stubby muzzle as she asked, "Why?" in a very quiet voice. But her mother was very thorough and very wise, and she explained that they were fragile—which must have meant that they hurt easily. Catching them with teeth was bad, and she knew that now. The little puppy stood up, her creamy legs turning to let her face the butterfly that would never get up. For a very long moment, the girl just stood there watching it, unable to look at her sister, whom she had assured very certainly that the butterfly was okay. The bright day had suddenly turned very scary, and suddenly she felt very far from the manor and from her sister and especially from her mother.
The creamy girl’s dual coloured eyes sprung with tears. For a moment, she simply looked at the butterfly and was afraid. But she was not afraid of the butterfly or the sleep that she had induced. She was afraid because she had done it. A quiet whimpering escaped from the girl—she didn’t want to play any more. "I’m sawwies," she whimpered to the butterfly before breaking into a run, seeking her mother’s comfort. She sniffled and she cried and whimpered, and when she reached her mom, she hid beneath her sitting form and pushed her face into her mother’s fur. "I didn’ means to, Mamma," she whailed. Her tail became tucked under her form as she balled up, being very sad and sorry that she had hurt the butterfly. She was glad that mamma wasn’t mad at her, and she wanted to not be outside anymore.
300+
Mamma explained that the pretty butterfly wouldn’t be waking up. At first, Amata thought that this must be a game, but her mother’s expression told her other wise. The smile completely faded from the pup’s stubby muzzle as she asked, "Why?" in a very quiet voice. But her mother was very thorough and very wise, and she explained that they were fragile—which must have meant that they hurt easily. Catching them with teeth was bad, and she knew that now. The little puppy stood up, her creamy legs turning to let her face the butterfly that would never get up. For a very long moment, the girl just stood there watching it, unable to look at her sister, whom she had assured very certainly that the butterfly was okay. The bright day had suddenly turned very scary, and suddenly she felt very far from the manor and from her sister and especially from her mother.
The creamy girl’s dual coloured eyes sprung with tears. For a moment, she simply looked at the butterfly and was afraid. But she was not afraid of the butterfly or the sleep that she had induced. She was afraid because she had done it. A quiet whimpering escaped from the girl—she didn’t want to play any more. "I’m sawwies," she whimpered to the butterfly before breaking into a run, seeking her mother’s comfort. She sniffled and she cried and whimpered, and when she reached her mom, she hid beneath her sitting form and pushed her face into her mother’s fur. "I didn’ means to, Mamma," she whailed. Her tail became tucked under her form as she balled up, being very sad and sorry that she had hurt the butterfly. She was glad that mamma wasn’t mad at her, and she wanted to not be outside anymore.