Word Count → 2+ :: table style © Sie
He would not even look at her now. Perhaps it was a final vestige of pride, the blue blood in her veins finally levering itself to a pitch that demanded to be heard, or perhaps it was the terrible realisation that she had been wasted here, with him. Regardless, her heart experienced a chasm of sharp pain.
She stepped back, and the satisfying sound of a slap echoed in the silence. Itachi's golden head had been moved slightly to the side, but it took a lance of pain across her palm for the girl to realise it had been she who had scorned him such. The pain tingled through her fingers, and it felt like anger, like release.
China turned and fled. There was a wetness on her silver cheeks, but she did not stop. The nighttime was coming, and she needed to be home. She had to be home by nightfall.
At the skull-tipped borders, the girl stopped and scooped up handfuls of snow, scrubbing at her silvery fur until the scent of him had been washed away and her entire body felt frozen and immune. The songbird did not allow herself any more time to think, but went straight to the small den she shared with her sister, needing to be distracted and to be forced into her cage once more.
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