Drabble Challenge: Day 13

    Oooh, forty-five minutes early. Aren't you all proud of me? I had intended to work this afternoon, but that didn't really work out because I was trying to sort out birthday gifts for my bestie and that tends to be time consuming. And then the cousins were over for dinner along with the grandparents and heavens knows that nothing really gets done on my agenda when there are tv shows to discuss. Heh.

    Also, I'd like to issue another thanks to Daebeck. He brought me the Nectar of Life (aka, Mountain Dew) this morning at church when I felt like I'd been hit by a semi. So, many thanks again, cousin. I'm still wired from that thing.

    As for the drabble, I almost did, but not quite, forget the prompt. I didn't have to throw it in at the last minute, let's put it that way. I really hope that it ends in a more or less satisfactory way, because words and words are hard. (Though I still went way over my minimum goal. Funny how that works.)


    Drabble Challenge: Day 13 - denial
    Word Count: 895    Minimum Goal: 780

    Nothing made sense. Not by human definition. There wasn’t any particular order, no discernible pattern of thought, just instinct and vagueness, cause and reaction. The wolf had determined, from its own limited senses and impulses based on experience, that she was a threat and had reacted as such.
    Vena tried to remember that fact as his bite-hold remained tight around her hand. Her arm was starting to tingle with blood loss already and she didn’t want to even start imagining the damage that was being rendered to the delicate structure of her hand. 
    Drawing herself together, she focused on the Great Wolf’s mind, trying to form her thoughts into images and impressions that it might understand. The hard part was finding something that wasn’t a threat to wolves—or prey. She did not need to be either of those things. Neither would keep her alive.
    I’m just as alone as you are. I’ve been betrayed like you’ve been. Vena drew on her own memories, her own pain and how people—hunters—had hurt her as they’d hurt him. The trauma had been emotional for her as opposed to physical, but she wasn’t under the impression the wolf would understand the difference.
    Wind blew, taking with it snow and scent, the smell of the forest being carried along past them. Almost unconsciously, Vena breathed it in, letting the familiar fragrance of pine and midnight wash through her and distract her from the pain, the fear.
    This had to work.
    “Please,” she whispered after a moment, wishing her voice hadn’t cracked over the word. “Let me go.” Vena put force behind the words pushing the feeling, the emotion, what she wanted, through the tenuous connection she had made with the animal.
    Her effort made a detectable impact, the impression rippling through his mind. The wolf’s jaw loosened a fraction and it snorted, the warmth of the breath rushing along her skin, causing her to shiver.
    The lessened pressure, despite how little it was, still brought the mindpath enough relief that she felt a fresh rush of tears fill her eyes. Exhaust was beginning to catch up now that the initial rush was fading and Vena knew that she didn’t have long before she wouldn’t be able to even keep kneeling where she was. The wolf, too, was beginning to show signs of fatigue, his ears drooping for a few seconds before perking again as he struggled to remain strong.
    “Let go,” Vena said again, putting force behind the words again, as much as she could manage. Please, please, please, we’re both going to die out here if you don’t let go.
    Her hope was beginning to flag along with her strength now. If it ended here, she would’ve been very pleased to know the fate Vena had met. When Vena’s denial of her ability had ceased, it seemed like some barrier had been unlocked and now someone—someone powerful that all the under-worlders just called she or her—had been sending out her soldiers and spies to find and eliminate her.
    She was just as hunted as the black wolf before her and that knowledge did very little for her courage. 
    And then, he let go.
    There was a wave of relief and a new pain that seared through her simultaneously as Vena snatched her injured hand to her person, near unable to look at the deep bite marks that stretched from above her wrist across her fingers. She didn’t dare try to move anything, but knew instinctively that her appendage would never work the same way again. 
    Taking in a strengthening breath and making sure to keep her undamaged palm on the wolf, the mindpath pushed her bleeding hand into the snow at her side to numb the pain. She still had something she had to do.
    When Vena depicted to the wolf what she wanted him to do, she wasn’t even sure he’d do it. It’d felt like he’d let go of her hand merely because the fancy struck him, not necessarily because of anything that she had done.
    Blue eyes bored into hers, unwavering, for what felt both like a moment and an age, then the wolf heaved a breath, and took a step forward. He nearly collapsed on top of her when his injured shoulder wouldn’t take his weight, but he managed to turn himself so that his side was neatly presented to Vena and then settled on the ground, not a moment too soon.
    Once he was settled, Vena carefully slide her hand from between his ears, along his neck and his ruff of fur, then to the injured shoulder that was facing her. The torn material from her former shirt was still nearby, mostly dry, just cold. Fetching it to herself and settling it in her lap, she worked to wad a part of it up to apply to the wolf’s wound with one hand.
    It was only a few moments after the fact that she realized she had no way to secure it to the injury.
    “You must be joking…” the woman muttered, settling aside the makeshift bandaging. She couldn’t afford to cut her cloak and there was no way that she was ripping up the shirt she was wearing now.
    “I guess we’re headed to Dunlark tonight, pal.” I’ll work out how to explain you when we get there.


    So, good? No good? Need more on this arc? Okay-ish with me moving on? Looking especially at you, Hannah. You've been my deciding factor in pushing on with this arc. 

    Really though, the most difficult part is knowing that today's scribbles are only about half of what I'll need to do daily for NaNoWriMo. Daebeck gave me a hug last night in sympathy when he learned the amount of words I'll have to write daily. (Too bad I was too much of a blithering idiot to properly thank him for said sympathy.)

   Anyways, I blather and digress. Has to do a bit more work, then head to bed and see about an episode of telly before I have to get the sleep that I didn't get last night. Au revoir.

    Ad astra per aspera.
    To the stars, through difficulties.