[ For half a tremulous heartbeat, they sit in wonder of the creatures below, tireless, taxing on the senses, the raw stench of the blood beneath their claws rising in acrid wafts.
Leaves swoon and sway and settle in harsh scratches. Below, one of the wolves throws the weight of its chest against the tree's heft, seeking to unsettle it. No answer, but the beast attempts again, until its mate or sibling crawls closer, and there's a silent sweetness to animal solidarity, how it licks the rain of spattered blood that crowns the first wolf's fur. ]
They cannot rise. [ This, perhaps in reassurance. They are safe here, if not unswaddled babes, but cherished and defended in a nest of branches, of lichen. He decides, all at once, to lead by example, rushing a hand to stay blood where it swells his sleeve and staggering towards the treehouse, after. ] And we cannot descend. We make arrows, or see who tires first of wait.
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Leaves swoon and sway and settle in harsh scratches. Below, one of the wolves throws the weight of its chest against the tree's heft, seeking to unsettle it. No answer, but the beast attempts again, until its mate or sibling crawls closer, and there's a silent sweetness to animal solidarity, how it licks the rain of spattered blood that crowns the first wolf's fur. ]
They cannot rise. [ This, perhaps in reassurance. They are safe here, if not unswaddled babes, but cherished and defended in a nest of branches, of lichen. He decides, all at once, to lead by example, rushing a hand to stay blood where it swells his sleeve and staggering towards the treehouse, after. ] And we cannot descend. We make arrows, or see who tires first of wait.