the longest night

China Rose Lykoi · 12-23-2011, 05:10 AM

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Wordcount: 3+

She awoke sharply, her maw split in a soundless cry as muscles rebelled against the stillness, the immovability, of her dreambody.

The nightmare died in her eyes as they slowly focused, pupils engorging themselves in the darkness to search the interior of the place where she had been sleeping. Recognition came back to her, slowly, and the girl felt the warmth of the furs around her, and smelt the golden man on them. Her large ears listened, but she had known upon waking that he was not there - The nightmare rarely came if he was, and if it did, she awoke to concern and comfort.

Rising slowly, the girl bundled up a heavy fur about her thin shoulders and headed out into the open. Stars flecked across a clear, dark sky, and the cool night air stung her nostrils until they adjusted. Her feet were silent on the cold ground, ephemeral still, graceful in spite of all the wounds that had befallen her. It had taken a long time for Itachi to nurse her back to health - It would take a longer time, still. He hunted regularly to provide her with fresh meals, but her body still had the fragile, hollow look of someone who knew famine. Her bird bones had almost departed her, but life had held on, and she had been found just in time.

It was not the first time she had pulled herself from her carer's sleeping quarters - He had been unable to be anything more than a carer to her, yet, for he handled her as though she were liable to break in his hands. Regardless, she never strayed from the place, and as yet, she had not met any who belonged to Itachi's pack. Many days ago, when the fever had still been with her and she had been too weak to show herself, she had heard the conversation of the fallen prince and another man somewhere beyond her sleeping place. She had not caught any words, but the other man's strangely smooth tone had been rough and disapproving. He had left, and not come back since.

Guided by the light of the moon, she began to wander. Although the air was crisp and held within it a hard bite of winter, her thin pelt was protected for the most part by the heavy, thick deerhide. She had discarded her denim skirt, and wore nothing else, a silvery wraith disguised as a doe as she slipped into the trees of the nearby woodland.

She had not walked for long before deep and haunted eyes, the color a delicate eggshell blue swamped by the black of an enlarged pupil, saw the strange spot of light flickering ahead. At first, she thought perhaps a star had fallen in the woods - On closer inspection, it was a fire. A woman sat near to the fire, her back to the approaching girl.

China wondered if her presence had been noted. She was a quiet creature by nature, and without her voice, seemed destined forever to a grave silence. However, the fur held Itachi's musk and her own sweeter scent, and a coy wind tarried them in the direction of the unknown woman.

She ought to have known fear by now, but a peculiar curiosity had stolen the girl, the first such mood she had felt in quite some time. So she continued her approach, but hesitated at the line of trees, lingering silently. Her round, shadowed eyes gazed at the woman with owlish intensity, before lifting longingly to the fire, whose warmth she could almost feel.

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