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The early spring day was filled with rain, dampening the world beneath the treetops into a pale replica of itself. Gaps in the trees that would have ushered in sunlight instead held doors for the rain to enter and coast to the forest floor until the spongy turf was mushy under touch.
Despite its dismal display, the dancing of raindrops wove a lulling tune. They sang of slumber and sloth, and who was Camille to deny them their request when it was composed so captivatingly? She lingered between a state of sleep and waking, eyelids hovering at half-mast as her breathing grew regulated.
Truthfully, it did not take much to coerce her into sleep these days, if only because she couldn't seem to rest - not fitfully. Her dreams, once a place of fanciful wonder, were besieged by a burning purpose forged by voices and presences she did not know. Camille first thought the entire existence she'd been thrust into was a dream itself, but the fact she continued to wake up and she was not home spelled her fate out ever so clearly.
She was here on a permanent basis, for reasons she did not know, and she was cursed to live as a beast.
Not only was she followed by her troubled dreams, but she was still recovering from the bite sank into her shoulder. She was not a practiced hand when it came to healing, but even she knew the wound didn't look good. Her pale fur was blemished by the streaks of dark red that had dried, spiking the fur in all directions around the painful punctures.
Camille had anticipated she would be sore as it healed, but her left leg remained stiff in the days that followed the event. She could feel the heat settle into the injury and it worried her, but she had no means to tend it. There were no scraps of cloth she could protect it with, and even if there were, she was without hands to bind it.
She pressed a long sigh through her nose as she shifted gingerly into a sit, banishing all thoughts of a nap as the pain hummed insistently, groaning against the strain of movement. It seemed to throb in time with the beating of her heart.
Camille was quite certain she would think twice before going back to that cabin.
Despite its dismal display, the dancing of raindrops wove a lulling tune. They sang of slumber and sloth, and who was Camille to deny them their request when it was composed so captivatingly? She lingered between a state of sleep and waking, eyelids hovering at half-mast as her breathing grew regulated.
Truthfully, it did not take much to coerce her into sleep these days, if only because she couldn't seem to rest - not fitfully. Her dreams, once a place of fanciful wonder, were besieged by a burning purpose forged by voices and presences she did not know. Camille first thought the entire existence she'd been thrust into was a dream itself, but the fact she continued to wake up and she was not home spelled her fate out ever so clearly.
She was here on a permanent basis, for reasons she did not know, and she was cursed to live as a beast.
Not only was she followed by her troubled dreams, but she was still recovering from the bite sank into her shoulder. She was not a practiced hand when it came to healing, but even she knew the wound didn't look good. Her pale fur was blemished by the streaks of dark red that had dried, spiking the fur in all directions around the painful punctures.
Camille had anticipated she would be sore as it healed, but her left leg remained stiff in the days that followed the event. She could feel the heat settle into the injury and it worried her, but she had no means to tend it. There were no scraps of cloth she could protect it with, and even if there were, she was without hands to bind it.
She pressed a long sigh through her nose as she shifted gingerly into a sit, banishing all thoughts of a nap as the pain hummed insistently, groaning against the strain of movement. It seemed to throb in time with the beating of her heart.
Camille was quite certain she would think twice before going back to that cabin.