10-01-2013, 03:06 PM
The last thing the Desert Oracles hear from Fern is a frustrated, strained little whine that does not sound like it belongs in the throat of a furless, two-legged creature. She looks at Phoebe as the Alpha apologizes, tells her to stay, they'll go. She tells her that the flower can be remade.
Fern just looks at her, no longer whining though still looking vaguely miserable. She just nods, though it's hard to tell if this is in answer or merely understanding. She keeps curling away, but as the three Theurges depart, the cub scoots forward in the dirt to pluck the marred gift from the ground. She takes it back, wherever she goes, wherever they're keeping her,
and looks at it for a long time.
Fern just looks at her, no longer whining though still looking vaguely miserable. She just nods, though it's hard to tell if this is in answer or merely understanding. She keeps curling away, but as the three Theurges depart, the cub scoots forward in the dirt to pluck the marred gift from the ground. She takes it back, wherever she goes, wherever they're keeping her,
and looks at it for a long time.
my whole life is thunder.