full moon rising on the waters of my soul
Amun didn’t have much of a plan here besides laying there and hoping that Wessex wouldn’t find his hiding spot. Given that he couldn’t run and he couldn’t fight, that’s about all he could do. Still, he could hear the queen getting closer, the rustling leaves heralding her approach. Trying to hold himself stiller, if such a thing were possible. However, that didn’t prove enough to save him: although it sounded like Wessex was getting farther for a brief moment, there was a flurry of noise and motion before claws stabbed into his side.
It didn’t hurt, of course, but he still reflexively whimpered. Again, on instinct, he tried to push away the blades—only succeeding in cutting his fingers, of course—and scramble away, trying to put the hedge between him and the queen. Fuck she was good at this. And he very much was not.
It didn’t hurt, of course, but he still reflexively whimpered. Again, on instinct, he tried to push away the blades—only succeeding in cutting his fingers, of course—and scramble away, trying to put the hedge between him and the queen. Fuck she was good at this. And he very much was not.
amun
