02-01-2009, 12:38 PM
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| http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c13/v ... ablebg.jpg);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-position:top;"> Mew Sadira Flander's Field Word count: 371 Carefully adjusting the plastic flowers, Mew sighed. It looked truly stupid, didn't it. She'd found the flowers in some building in town, it probably used to be a shop or something. They'd been pretty, she thought, even though they were clearly fake. The femme missed the flowers and green grass of summer and spring, tired of cold winds and snowflakes. Snow was always exciting in the beginning, but now she longed for the growing things to come alive again. She'd been counting months, and had decided it was due with spring soon. But none of this was the reason she was here, now, with the flowers. They had been stored away in her den along with other funny objects she'd found, not intended for use for anything at all. Until she'd stumbled upon a picture in a human book, showing a graveyard much like the one they already had in their pack lands. The gravestones had been accompanied with flowers and toys, and candles and other pretty things, probably from the families of the deceased, or someone tending to them. It had inspired Mew, because she knew where her children lay, and it was marked by a stone, at the hand of Colibri. So she'd put the book aside and gone home to find the flowers. And though it had seemed like a good idea at the time, Mew now felt foolish. No matter what she did with the flowers, she didn't seem to be able to make it look even slightly natural. Getting up on two legs, she took a few steps back and looked at the rock and the little bumps in the ground that gave away where they all lay individually. The femme then sighed again; it simply would not do, and bent down again to remove the flowers. It had been a good thought, but it just didn't fit. The plastic flowers made plastic sounds as she plucked them out of the snow again, looking at the grave with a mixture of feelings. Sadness for her own loss, sadness for their loss, and sadness because her flowers were not pretty. All sadness and none of the strength she normally had in her. She was getting old, probably. |