Ruins of Wildwood
Thicket of Secrets Let It Be - Printable Version

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Let It Be - Skylah - Mar 01, 2011

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    we are all decieving, lost, and bleeding.

Empty freedom, broken dreams. A lost reality. Is that the kind of cards life could dish out?

Let it try. There was no loss to her, gaining her freedom. No, she would cling to it, and dare

anyone to take it away. Capable of thinking for herself, she had no haste to find someone

else to tell her what she should and shouldn't be doing. What satisfaction in the

absoluteness she could do whatever. No daunting curfews, games of tweny questions, the

nagging, dissaproved voices. Pleasing only herself, she couldn't believe she'd waited this

long to leave it all behind. Guilt? There would be no such thing. The confident stride of the

cinnamon tinted girl was evident. They carriage of entire frame was held upright, if the

world were hers look down upon. It was not. She would not claim it to be. The phrase on top

of the world was clear. She could not get much higher off this plane, and wanted to savor

the moment. This was what she was living for. In a completely different world set apart from

her home. Where anything could be out there, looking in this unexplored wilderness she

was ready for anything. Or close.


The setting of spring was clear, and she least thanked her lucky stars she had yet to come

into heat. It would only be a matter of time. For now she could travel without the worry.The

last thing she needed was males scenting her down for that purpose. Bitter smile twisted

her lips. This was the only regret she had for leaving at this time, instead of later. Home she

would only hear the pleas of her parents to reproduce, out here she was her sole protection.

Flicking it away, she would put an end to those kind of ideas. She had a stomach to fill, and

was keen on doing so asap. Onyx nose to the earthen floor, she let the wild scents press

through, round, round pictures in her head. Wanting to find an easy catch, she zoned in on

what could be animal, displacing the flora entirely. First sniff brought mice, packrats, and

the like. Maybe if she grew desperate she would trail them. The menu she had in mind was

something worth chasing.

Trailing through the tangled mess of partial snow, and the wild growth of carpenting she

was ready to prusue smaller quarry. The flash of metallic blood hit wired senses. Picking up

light gray limbs, twisting round she found the source. Small droplets of red, with small

cloven steps of a deer. Soaked in the sweet findings, the sorrel body scrunched as she

spreaded out her weight. Gold gaze peered round, wondering how close. In dead silence,

and stretched, slow steps she followed the injured animal.

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