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Darling; 2/5: "Dancing" [103]

Dancing.

Lilac hooves, moving across the marsh, light as the crisp blue sky from which they seemed to inherit their colors.

The doe would jump, spinning and twirling, her mane and tail streaming behind her fluidly, giving the appearance of sunset-lit clouds. She could paint any picture with her body; Perhaps a tale of sorrow and loss: her movements would get slower, softer, and her brows would crease skyward, symbolizing longing and sadness. Or maybe something fiercer and sexy: accompanied by an inviting smirk and sultry eyes, Darling would move about in sharper, passionate, lustful jolts.

Anything to build up her "fan base."

Rush of Wind: 2/5

38. Candy

He experienced candy the first time when he joined Rise and Shine.

Acha had a sweet tooth, but then again, they craved anything so long as it fulfilled their hedonistic pleasures. He had not been one of those Acha. A hunter, though blind, he had a taste for meet and for blood, warm and deep, blossoming across his tongue and perhaps contrasted against the fresh taste of water.

When the sweetness had been popped into his mouth, his reactions made complacent by the desire to be respectful to his new employers, he had immediately wished for it all to be washed away by blood.

He was not a creature of sweetness. He could not be.

Not so long as he was haunted by the hunt, haunted by his own death.

He shouldn’t be alive today and ghosts don’t eat candy.

140 words

Timorous 1/5 - 48. The Path Less Traveled
Words: 131


She'd always been timid and shy, which was why the path appealed to her. A fork in the main branch, its path was not beaten down from many kin traveling it, but it had a softness held from when it was used infrequently. And because she was more afraid of other kin than what the swamp could offer to combat her, she took the path, going deeper into the swamp than one would normally wander.

She expected to find on the end of the path horrors, bleakness, or something that was generally avoided by most. What she found was a small paradise, tended by a lonely kiokote who had glowing markings and a kind voice and the reassurance that he would "never, ever hurt her".
She found herself a small home.

6/17 - Sugar and Spice - Wasp II - 159 words

Wasp peered into the turtle shell uncertainly. His reflection, floating on top of his sister's latest fermented creation, peered back at him. It looked no more confident in the drink than he was.

It had all started when Honey Chaser declared that she wanted something new, something different, something that definitely wasn't made out of oranges. Something sweet and something spicy, something no one in the swamp had tried before! Her excitement was contagious, and Wasp was soon out gathering a...creative assortment of herbs and roots and flowers and fruits. They had tried no less than 14 different drinks, and all of them had ranged from "sort of okay" to "not even the turtle will drink this" (and the turtle, Wasp had discovered, could outdrink some grown Acha). This was the last one in the batch, and he didn't think it would be any better than the rest.

He closed his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and licked.

Joy
Expecting to Fly | 2 of 5 | 161 words

Fly tugged at a weed and dropped it onto her quickly growing pile. “Mum, I think you need someone to help you out while I’m away travelling. These weeds have almost overtaken half the garden!”
Flowerpod looked up at her daughter, “Greenfinch helps out sometimes but you know how she is.”
The pale doe bent down to pull out a rather tough looking weed, using her front two legs as leverage. Nothing happened. She readied herself and tried again. It didn’t budge.
Fly trotted over to give her mother a hoof, biting onto another section of the plant. Together they pulled until with a loud SNAP! of the stem, the two Kimeti tumbled to the ground, landing in a heap of tangled legs. Flowerpod frowned, but a giggle escaped from Fly’s lips and before long, they were both laughing hysterically, tears streaming down their faces. Fly turned to look at the older doe... she was glad to see her mum again.

distorting the light | 1 / 5 | 198 words


h e a v e n

She dreamed that she was running.

Panting, she ran through the dense growth of the swamp floor of a territory she had left behind long ago. Left behind, but never forgotten. Silence followed her, more terrifying than the stamping of hooves or snapping of branches, for the dead silently stalk their prey. She turned, fearing what she would see, and surely enough there he was, just behind her, his sour breath smelling of decay and rot.

"What have you done?" He demanded.

Every night Mirage had this dream, repeating over and over until he fell upon her, waking her in a sheen of sweat and tears, but tonight was different. Tonight, she swallowed her terror and choked on her guilt, squeezing her eyes shut, she made a turn where she normally ran onward, and to her surprise, Haze's ghost ran on in the other direction.

Panting and silently sobbing, she made herself walk on until she reached the tree where her beloved's remains were hidden. Slowly, painfully she merged the remains into a single grave and as she pushed the dirt back over it, the entire swamp seemed to sigh in relief.

"Thank you, my dear. Thank you,"

40. Hold My Hand | 2/5

The gash on her leg stung, it ached, it hurt so much she did not have enough words to describe it. She had attempted to sleep it off. Looking back, it might have been a mistake. Now her entire body shook with pain and her wound throbbed. It throbbed and she felt the pain in her head. Lightbringer wanted to curl up and sleep forever. She wanted to sleep until her mother brought her something to make the pain go away. She wanted Feverfew to soothe her pains. She wanted her father to comfort her.

But then she remembered that she was alone. There was no one to hold her hand anymore. Lightbringer blinked and told herself that she needed to wash her wound.