03-06-2012, 06:22 AM
It was only a branch, breaking true but one that had been dried to bone-dust readiness, and scored in strategic places. When Caspa loomed over the pig in fuming aggression, and the bang sounded, it shot through the tension in such a way that it wasn't hard to fake the impact. The white hound let herself go limp and utterly relaxed as they had practiced, and then she let herself fall. The boom from the branch having knocked her to the ground, all she had to do was lie still and unconscious. A statue could not have done a better job, as even her breathing was stilled to the slowest of movements. In this state it might have been expected for her to drift away and become less aware of her surroundings, but with her senses and movement taken away as in her meditations, Caspa felt more lively and aware than any other time. She felt she could hear every member of the audience breathe, and she could certainly hear Terra's quick footsteps as she followed the rehearsed paths, so far sticking to the orthodox arrangement. She heard a few giggles from the direction of the onlookers, and her heart warmed to think the children were enjoying this as she'd hoped they would. She could not see her, but she knew that Terra was drawing fake pig footprints on the ground. As soon as she heard the final scamper of coy-wolf paws pass the ground where her head lay, she allowed herself to reawaken. She sat up, rubbing her head and feigning aches and discomfort. She let the moment linger only briefly before jumping upright to stare in silent disbelief at the empty spot where the pig statue had stood. Where has it gone? her dark eyes read expressively. Then she jumped almost out of her skin, and pointed an elegant finger at the footprints, surprise evident in every angular line. That way! her eyes said, and walking with exaggerated care upon her tip-toes, the Afghan lady stalked off the stage with her head bent low to the ground, intent upon the false trail that Terra had created. As soon as she was off the main stage area, the woman stepped behind the curtain so that she was utterly hidden from all angles and allowed herself one small private smile. Things weren't going too badly, she allowed: it was the first thing that had gone right for quite some time, but she mustn't speak too soon. Caspa found a small peephole in the curtain and eyed it, watching for Terra's reappearance, sampling a small amount of whisky from a flask as she waited, slowing already-steady nerves to an almost sedentary calm.