Out of my Head [o]
Mar 23, 2015 11:58:09 GMT -5
Post by FLASHMOB; on Mar 23, 2015 11:58:09 GMT -5
So much time had passed since Syx had taught her about hunting. It obviously had paid off, because her ribs did not protrude nearly as noticeably from her sides as they had been. Zasha looked healthier than she had ever looked, and that was all thanks to the brindle, brute who she distrusted. Just the thought of him made her mind reel with unanswered questions. Why had he bothered to help her, since he obviously did not care about her? No one cared about her. The only friend she had was the voice inside her head that kept her company and yelled its opinion in her ears. Sometimes Zasha wished that she did not have the voice inside of her skull, but other times she appreciated it, because it was her only friend. She did not want to be alone, and silence would be her enemy.
"Why are you even thinking about him? He just wanted to keep you alive so he could kill you himself," the paranoid voice in her skull rambled on. She rolled her bi-colored eyes and attempted to ignore the banter. She did not like to talk to the voice about Syx, because it always told her what she didn't want to hear. Truthfully, Zasha wanted to trust at least one other dog beside herself, but she was caught up on what had happened to her mother to trust anyone. At least Syx seemed to share her dislike of Kekoa, and he had helped her more than anyone else had. Hell, without Syx she was on her way to starving to death. "Why would he help you, you know as well as I do there are no good Samaritans in the world. They all want something," Zasha found truth in those words. No one did anything for free, especially not in this town.
The Merle colored female trotted through the grass, which was up to her stomach. The edges of the blades licked at the stomach, causing a nagging itch that Zasha had a hard time ignoring. Flowers had begun sprouting the meadow, and a few limbs were scattered across the ground from last years storm. She recalled the storm, and often had nightmares about it. She had cut her paw and had taken refuge in a cave when a pack called Tempest helped her. Zasha did not trust that pack, but they did make sure she healed before they sent her away. Her eyes glanced down at the healed scar that was the only reminder of her time with Tempest. She had no reason to dislike them, and only one reason to trust them, and that was not enough for her.
"Maybe Syx and Tempest are working together to kill you deary," the voice cackled with laughter. Was it amusing to play with Zashas emotions? It must have been. Her lips peeled back into a snarl and she growled at her mind, silencing the laughter that threatened to make her go even crazier than she already was. She lowered her nose to the ground, in an attempt to sniff out some sort of prey. She had been practicing what the brindle brute had taught her. Sometimes she was successful in catching a meal, and other times she was not, but was more successful than she had ever been before. She lowered her body and started walking in the direction that the scent had come from. If she was lucky, there would be another meal in it for her.
"Speaking"WORDS 583
TAGS Open
NOTES Who wants to meet crazy? (Nothing violent please)