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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2023-12-31 07:15:05 -08:00
parent 091fd5b353
commit b5d010e836
3 changed files with 9 additions and 2 deletions
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1
writing/post-self/motes/001.md
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@ -290,4 +290,3 @@ Motes huffed, nodded. "Good. If you stop talking to me, I *will* cry."
The Odist laughed and leaned over to hug her cocladist, careful of her nails. "I will not, do not worry, my dear. You are stuck with me for a good while yet."
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writing/post-self/motes/002.md
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@ -170,4 +170,3 @@ She sighed dramatically and pushed herself up to her feet. "Okaaay. I had breakf
Sasha laughed, forking another instance to take Motes by the paw, letting her down-tree continue working. "I am sorry that this topic has been nipping at your heels these last few days, little skunk. I have probably shared more than A Finger Pointing may have wished, but she and I will talk, and you will get your pizza or burger or pizza-burger and talk about things at your own pace, dear.
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writing/post-self/motes/003.md Normal file
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Motes played.
Today, she played prey. Today, she was a mouse to some fox, some owl, some cunning predator. She crept and crawled at first, prowling through the brush and between the trunks of trees. She stuck to where the pine needles made a thick carpet on the floor of this forest or, failing that, the hard domes of granite that interrupted it. Anything she could do to stay away from the scree or gravel, the occasional stands of deciduous trees with their noisier fallen leaves, the stands of blackberry canes that she knew would tug at her clothes and fur, leaving a wake of whimpers and vines whipping backward.
Today, she sought out all of the best ways to move. There were times when all fours was called for — when she climbed a slope, perhaps, or when she needed to force herself through some keyhole in the brush, or when she needed to be quiet. Those digger claws of hers helped at times and hindered others, and if the ones on her toes would clack against rock, she would crawl on her knuckles and knees.
Today, she listened hard, head constantly turning to build a better view of the sonic landscape of the world around her. She hunted for the rustle of branches, of footsteps, of breath. Today, her eyes were keen, her gaze sharp, flitting about to hunt for the slightest movement or out-of-place shadow.