11-26-2017, 12:43 AM
my words are unerring tools of destruction
He is tired, and hungry, and he's cold.
It has been almost an entire week since he lost Mother, and though he wandered as best as his little legs would take him, he did not find her again. He had found a place where the fae-folk had fed and cared for him, kept him warm, but Gansey simply hadn't felt comfortable with the place and so when they were busy with a new arrival, he slipped away early this morning. But night is falling again, and he has not yet found Mother.
The temperature is dropping, he's so hungry, and he feels tears threatening to choke him where they build in the back of is throat. From the Den he had wandered into a few places today but this place is darker under the tall, tall trees, and Gansey just can't walk any further. He's thirsty, too, and his legs hurt. His fury is baby-fluffy, but it's not quite enough. He picks a promising, lonely tree and drops to the ground beneath it, nearly hidden in the tall grass that has sprung up around its base, sweet-smelling but unappetizing to the weeks-old foal.
Maybe, if he wishes it hard enough, Mother will find him while he sleeps.
It has been almost an entire week since he lost Mother, and though he wandered as best as his little legs would take him, he did not find her again. He had found a place where the fae-folk had fed and cared for him, kept him warm, but Gansey simply hadn't felt comfortable with the place and so when they were busy with a new arrival, he slipped away early this morning. But night is falling again, and he has not yet found Mother.
The temperature is dropping, he's so hungry, and he feels tears threatening to choke him where they build in the back of is throat. From the Den he had wandered into a few places today but this place is darker under the tall, tall trees, and Gansey just can't walk any further. He's thirsty, too, and his legs hurt. His fury is baby-fluffy, but it's not quite enough. He picks a promising, lonely tree and drops to the ground beneath it, nearly hidden in the tall grass that has sprung up around its base, sweet-smelling but unappetizing to the weeks-old foal.
Maybe, if he wishes it hard enough, Mother will find him while he sleeps.
gansey
and I've become unequipped with the ability to disarm them
@[Kristin]/@[Femur] sorry this took forever to get up :|