Post by myra on Oct 10, 2010 12:47:41 GMT -5
The waves hissed against the sand, a cool, calming sound that brought forth images of glittering ocean, stretching for miles, and colorful fish, darting among the unknown deeps.
For Myra Burbanks, the sound really did bring little more than an image. Her soft, gray eyes stared sightlessly into the breaking morning, her small, brown form lay huddled in a cave. She could smell that other wolves had been there, although they were long gone at this point. Unconcerned as to whether or not they might come back, Myra dozed.
Her second soul, Andrie, had lain silent for quite some time now, and she didn't much mind that. She'd been getting better and better at responding more to the instincts his presence gave her, and less to his words. She had dug herself a small hollow in the soft earth of the cave, to shield her thinly-furred body from the cold ocean breezes, and had been able to scratch out a few worms for a light snack earlier that night.
Now, in a half-sleeping limbo, Myra wondered what sight was like. Rather than the images she painted in her head, built on descriptions given by those she'd met while wandering, to actually see the world. She could feel the heat of the sun, but she didn't know what the day-lit sky looked like. She knew that sand was grainy and soft, but was it brown and green, like people described dirt, or was it a different color altogether?
Things she'd never know, things she wanted to know. The half-sleep became full sleep, and the young one dreamed of a world she'd never experience.
For Myra Burbanks, the sound really did bring little more than an image. Her soft, gray eyes stared sightlessly into the breaking morning, her small, brown form lay huddled in a cave. She could smell that other wolves had been there, although they were long gone at this point. Unconcerned as to whether or not they might come back, Myra dozed.
Her second soul, Andrie, had lain silent for quite some time now, and she didn't much mind that. She'd been getting better and better at responding more to the instincts his presence gave her, and less to his words. She had dug herself a small hollow in the soft earth of the cave, to shield her thinly-furred body from the cold ocean breezes, and had been able to scratch out a few worms for a light snack earlier that night.
Now, in a half-sleeping limbo, Myra wondered what sight was like. Rather than the images she painted in her head, built on descriptions given by those she'd met while wandering, to actually see the world. She could feel the heat of the sun, but she didn't know what the day-lit sky looked like. She knew that sand was grainy and soft, but was it brown and green, like people described dirt, or was it a different color altogether?
Things she'd never know, things she wanted to know. The half-sleep became full sleep, and the young one dreamed of a world she'd never experience.