07-20-2018, 09:02 PM
"Yes," that swift, thoughtless agreement easily betrays, easily boons consent. But the tide of fatigue and hypothermia made for a painfully slow physical response, despite his vocal spur at my flank AND our latest tormentor somewhere in the ebbing, frozen darkness. These arms slide with slow, necessary unwillingness from their tight, packaged hold. A bitter wave of cold air rushes inward, icing those previously untouched nooks with a bite of underfed savagery. Violent tremors overtake my shrinking, pitiful obedience -- and for one (or three) rigid moments, I'm frozen in place. My heart sways into melancholy, coming to a detached realization; an epiphany of our near future. We're going to... The she-wolf barks a single, aggravated note. Her sharp, abrupt noise cuts off my negativity before it can labor into the realm of physiological suicide, 'enough,' she snaps and presses forward; not asking permission. Despite the fine edge of aggression in her tone, our alteration is tapered with gentleness -- the change of rein is smooth, effortless. Predatory, triangular angles replace those of softer, sphere-like caliber. Her warm fur envelopes and simultaneously diminishes the power of that horrible gale with some measure of success. She (I) pace forward and draw aside, pulling apart our (my) powerful, feathery arms to full reach As they arch overhead, their primaries fanning -- her commanding voice ascends, becoming soft and low, 'this isn’t the worst you’ve been.' Predatory irises rotate upward, finding (our) my precious mate. |