(no subject)
When she wakes the next day, shivering and hungry, Alanna quickly slams her eyes closed and spends a few minutes silently insisting that it was all a dream. The reprieve doesn't last long; she's far too sensible to believe herself.
The sun slinks over the strange horizon. Lifting her head, she eyes the walls of the fort -- the van is parked in the center, looking incongruous -- and slowly crawls outside. So far, so good. No rampaging beasts.
She finds a bench and sits down. "I miss Jonathan," she tells the morning, forlorn. "Who will protect him from Roger?"
You can't protect everyone. Faithful jumps in her lap, purring. You're going to have your hands full protecting us. And finding my breakfast.
"You're a cat. Hunt."
Hunting for anything but pleasure is undignified.
"Prissy animal." It's affectionate.
The sun slinks over the strange horizon. Lifting her head, she eyes the walls of the fort -- the van is parked in the center, looking incongruous -- and slowly crawls outside. So far, so good. No rampaging beasts.
She finds a bench and sits down. "I miss Jonathan," she tells the morning, forlorn. "Who will protect him from Roger?"
You can't protect everyone. Faithful jumps in her lap, purring. You're going to have your hands full protecting us. And finding my breakfast.
"You're a cat. Hunt."
Hunting for anything but pleasure is undignified.
"Prissy animal." It's affectionate.