12-12-2019, 03:05 AM
But I can’t.
Three words ring in the lion’s mind forcing his quiet stalking to a sudden halt. The shadows that had rushed to him now roil and rumble beneath his stomach. Barely, just barely, he remembers speaking. He remembers words that spilled from his lips as if they were tea too hot to drink.
We can’t.
The muscles in his legs tense, so tautly knit together that they immediately ache. We can’t what? Litotes thinks, but the moment of coherency is fleeting enough for the unusual twit of a bird to distract him. His ears twitch, agitated both by his body’s instinctual responses and the call of a bird that should have fallen asleep hours before.
“Hello?” Lilt calls, so quiet and sweet that the predator within Lie grows viciously excited. The tip of his tail twitches out of control, enough to rattle surrounding grass; it is by chance that she is deaf and does not hear. Still, he presses himself even lower to the earth, masked by shadows so desperate to do his bidding.
She’s so pretty, blue and green and purple—glowing like Beqanna’s own walking moon. She’s so pretty, he thinks, but it is washed away by the angry hunger in his belly. The lion does not care if she is beautiful or soft-spoken or deserving of life. All those quiet attributes make her sweeter to the taste.
Litotes creeps forward, topaz eyes steady on her silver ones even as they do not see him. His mouth hangs open, tasting the fall leaves on her skin before his mouth even reaches her.
You mean so much to me. I’d do anything for you.
The shadows drop from the lion’s sides as he rises, so frightened by the voice in his head that he is certain it is coming from another he has yet to locate. When his eyes fix on Lilt’s, when she finally sees him, he cowers backward—the voice finds meaning in her face, in the way she startles.
He doesn’t understand but he drops to the dirt with a low chuff.
Three words ring in the lion’s mind forcing his quiet stalking to a sudden halt. The shadows that had rushed to him now roil and rumble beneath his stomach. Barely, just barely, he remembers speaking. He remembers words that spilled from his lips as if they were tea too hot to drink.
We can’t.
The muscles in his legs tense, so tautly knit together that they immediately ache. We can’t what? Litotes thinks, but the moment of coherency is fleeting enough for the unusual twit of a bird to distract him. His ears twitch, agitated both by his body’s instinctual responses and the call of a bird that should have fallen asleep hours before.
“Hello?” Lilt calls, so quiet and sweet that the predator within Lie grows viciously excited. The tip of his tail twitches out of control, enough to rattle surrounding grass; it is by chance that she is deaf and does not hear. Still, he presses himself even lower to the earth, masked by shadows so desperate to do his bidding.
She’s so pretty, blue and green and purple—glowing like Beqanna’s own walking moon. She’s so pretty, he thinks, but it is washed away by the angry hunger in his belly. The lion does not care if she is beautiful or soft-spoken or deserving of life. All those quiet attributes make her sweeter to the taste.
Litotes creeps forward, topaz eyes steady on her silver ones even as they do not see him. His mouth hangs open, tasting the fall leaves on her skin before his mouth even reaches her.
You mean so much to me. I’d do anything for you.
The shadows drop from the lion’s sides as he rises, so frightened by the voice in his head that he is certain it is coming from another he has yet to locate. When his eyes fix on Lilt’s, when she finally sees him, he cowers backward—the voice finds meaning in her face, in the way she startles.
He doesn’t understand but he drops to the dirt with a low chuff.
