WELL, JESUS CHRIST, I'M NOT SCARED TO DIE
Texas and Prague have lots in common, they're old as dirt, they don't care for small talk, but above all else; they're stubborn. If we're talking beneath the surface you could probably make the assumption they loved one another in some strange, self-absorbed sort of way.
Prague hasn't thought of Texas not because she's forgotten solely about him but rather she's forgotten everything about herself. She's aimlessly wandering, she was taken to the Jungle as her "home" but she's still unsure what exactly she's doing there - spare setting fire to the plants (not the rain, Adele). She sees the bay scratching himself and something inside of her stirs - there is no epiphany, more like the first small sign of the flu, a dip in the stomach then the slow rise of a fever. It felt good and bad all at the same time. She nickered to him, not sure if he knew her or if maybe his name would come to her and swayed towards him. Eyes bright, excitement dancing across them in hopes of figuring something out.
"Hi, I'm Prague!" she says quite happily and waits. Little does she know he could very well bash her head in.
I'M A LITTLE BIT SCARED OF WHAT COMES AFTER
sorry my muse went kaput.