Wildflower Glade ashes

It was a gift. This thought had not occurred to her earlier when her mind, still highly suspicious of his intentions, had degraded each gift into bait. But peering into his eyes, a dull and uninteresting shadow of yellow, she decided he was harmless, and if anything, could be used for her own good. Lips curving in mischief, she gazed at him a second more before abruptly snatching out at the small vole, hastily snapping its small neck before taking a generous bite of its still-warm flesh. All the while, her eyes continued to dart from her snack to the gift-bearer, until her entire focus became devoted to the vole. It was soon disappeared into her stomach.

Smacking her lips in approval, she licked her face as she gazed at her companion slyly from the side. His attention already seemed to be elsewhere, and she wondered if he had some problems with his brain. She would take this into full consideration. <b>"Thank you,"</b> she purred in a soft French. It was perhaps the nicest thing she had said, had said, but even then her tones were shaded with pretense. Yawning very much as a cat would, her body elongating and becoming thinner, she slowly withdrew before batting her eyelashes once. <b>"You are so impolite, you know, forcing the lady to speak first."</b> Her voice was smoky, and her lips curved further like that of the Cheshire Cat. <b>"And worse!"</b> her lilting, accented voice rose, <b>"Not giving 'er a name by which to address you. Making her beg like some common prost--orphan."</b> Her eyes grew wider as if she was appalled by her near mistake, and she searched his face for comfort and affirmation. The maggot in her heart dug deeper but became lost in a small vein. It remained still.

He felt the creature's tail slip from his grasp with a jerk of violent force. Checking to see if it had gotten away, he moved his eyes towards the female and saw her tearing into it as if she hadn't eaten in days. Ahah, ahah. Yes, it was persistence that paid off, and she was hungry after all. Determined not to stare at her idly, he rose, his tail hanging limply and walked a few steps off, his back to her. Finding a lush spot of flowers, he plopped down again onto his belly and rolled over onto his back, hanging his limbs in front of him. He found enjoyment in the movement, and began to slowly roll from side to side, taking care to itch those impossible to reach places along the way, and content to stare up at the sky, view partially blocked by his paws. "Th-", the sudden sound of a feminine voice rang in his ears. Jolting, he instantly rolled onto his feet and sprang to his feet, lurching backwards awkwardly, and bending his front paw in a way it didn't want to go. "-ank you". Remembering to breathe, his chest heaved, and his expression alarmed surprise. "You are so impolite, you know, forcing the lady to speak first. And worse! Not giving 'er a name by which to address you. Making her beg like some common prost--orphan. " Still stunned, his jaw dropped. Complete rejection, coupled with the stranger's sudden voice, froze his brain in the temperature of the netherlands. His mouth quivered in silent stammering, until at last "...Skittles.", he managed to utter his own name in response to her questions, his voice shaky. He began to quiver in fear now, unsure what to do. He could stand up to bullies, mockers, and liars, but to this female he found his resolve shattered and his manliness dissolved. "I -i - i ...", he stammered again, untill at last recovering, " ... I don't understand you. But it works okay.", he tried to add a positive note to his ending. Unsure what else to say, he shut his mouth and sat down, holding his head in a dejected manner.

His down and up motions, first down on the floor to stargaze, and then up again to speak with her, encouraged a more sincere smile to appear on her features, giving them a distinctly soft, if not pretty look. It was not often that she graced herself with--well, grace, for if she had learned anything from her childhood, it was those who were of kind hearts that were first abused.

Of course that was his name. It was a peculiar name for an even more peculiar wolf. Giving a small yip of acknowledgment, she watched him with unveiled amusement as he stumbled around for words. It was strange, for she felt with him to be the one in control--oh, she always pretended that she was the dominant one, that she was superior to everyone she passed, but this did not mean it was the truth. But with this male, this male who unknowingly to her was named after rainbow-colored pieces, she could almost entirely deceive herself to believe that was on the right side of the teeter-totter. It was a novel idea. <b>"What do you mean, you don't understand?"</b> she said, her once lilting voice now inching on irritation. She could not help it. This annoyance seemed to bubble out of her without control, and truly, she blamed it on fear. She frowned, but it was not one of complete disapproval. No, there was an inkling of sadness. She gazed long upon his dejected features, and inwardly, secretly, she sighed.

"What do you mean, you don't understand?", she snapped back with enough verocity to even make an aligator sink back into the depths, frightened. The tone of voice almost reminded him of his mother. "Nodontyoudareeattha-...youareinsomuchtroublemister! JustyouwaituntilYOURFATHERgetshome!". 'No Skittles!' this, and 'No, Skittles!', that.... Shaking the dreary thoughts from his head, he thought up a careful reply. Very careful. By now, he knew, one wrong word, one incorrect intonation, would make her angry all over again. While it did wear down on his spirits, what few responses of non-anger he got encouraged him onwards. "I don't... don't...", he tried to piece together. Finally, a look of determination crossed his face and his eyes met hers. "You.", he stated simply. Knowing this answer would only result in her questioning him further, he decided to explain. "You were sad. I brought you flowers. You were lonely. I came . You were hungry. I hunted ...", his voice trailed off, not knowing what the creature was called, only that it was edible, and that the female had liked it. He gestured his head towards it and then continued. "You liked it quiet. I don't understand. You. Angry. Why? ", his voice trailed off now, solemn, yet thoughtful. "Miss...? Tell me your name?", he inquired, after a long pause. Feeling foolish and embarrassed still, although he was not sure what he had done wrong, he idly pawed at the ground. Feeling more foolish still, he called to her again. "Will you be my friend?"

Now it was he who was being dramatic. Though she had been irritated, it had only been an inch out of miles of how angry she could become. While it was true the poor male had experienced some of her rage, it had not been nearly representative of all that she could unleash. In truth, her question had been tainted with a tone of sadness, though perhaps the subtlety of it made it hard to appreciate.

He was piecing together his thoughts, putting the reds with the yellows, the oranges with the purples, and creating what was hopefully was a whole rainbow. Determination swept over his features, and it was, in her oh-so modest opinion, his best moment. She was about to smile, but his stammered answer, a single yet painful one-syllable word, was enough to gun down her temporary happiness. She frowned, and as he attempted to explain his reasoning, her frown grew deeper until they became deep crevices in her face. The prettiness of her earlier appreciation had long wilted, and it was as if it had never been there. He said several things about her, several things that while probably true, had never been openly admitted by her. As such, she felt exposed, read by a male she had deemed illiterate. When his explanation collapsed into a series of difficult questions, she felt interrogated. She stepped back once, twice. The yellow venom on her tongue pooled, swirled.

He was an innocent victim. <b>"S-sir! I 'ave never been so, so insulted!"</b> Her entire body trembled with the force of her breathless disdain. <b>"You, who are you to tell me what I am? Who are you to say that I am sad, that I am lonely, that I am hungry, and this and that. Do you know me?"</b> Pointlessly she paused, if only to take a breath. She stepped back forward, aggression hunched in her shoulders. <b>"No! You do not. You do not even know my name, do you?"</b> Having nothing to more to say, she gaped for a few moments before snapping her jaws decisively shut. She would no longer play his sick game. <b>"I am done playing games with you. I am doing being h-humiliated."</b> And with that, she left with the memory of his voice still jostling about in her mind, of his dejected face when she had hurt him, of his last question that she had so deeply, unreasonably, wanted to answer with a resounding yes.

Poor skittles!

When he had said that he didn't understand her, he had certainly been correct. In fact, he could not have been more correct. With the windedness required to blow the sea from the east to the west, enough to compete with the Northern Breeze itself, she expelled foul words of disapproval from her mouth. Completely unexpecting them, they hit him with enough force to blow him backwards and skid a few feet. The words were spoken so fast that he had trouble understanding them. And, after she was done speaking, he still had no idea what exactly she had said, except the familiar sting of rejection. Unsure what to do, anxious, sad, and shaken, he lifted his head to his only companions from where he sat, the stars somewhere far away in the sky, and sung his heart out to the only two inanimate beings who would actually listen to him- the moon and sun. "Haoooooooooooooou", "Haooouuuuooooouuu", he cried out, again and again, until his lungs felt as worn and rubbery as an earthworm. And then he howled out some more. His voice finally fell short when his exhausted eyes slid shut and his body met the ground with the dull thud, followed by the sounds of slumber. - exit (sleep) Skittles -