it's the leaving that's hard

@Boone

When the world slid, she slid with it.

Down into the depths, with the trees and the rocks.

It buried her and filled with mouth and eyes with dirt and sand.

When she felt her bones snap, she tried to holler out. It wasn't heard over the sound of the landslide. Nobody to hear her. Nobody to save her.
 

---

It was the sound of the waves that woke her. Off the shore of the cliff, God's way of telling her to rise. The woman stirred only barely, a whimper here or there as the sun crept into her lids.
She shot up from the dirt, her eyes full of fear and betrayal. It was a betrayal, after all- the same earth meant to cradle her like a child was the same earth that led to her demise. Or at least, she thought it was a demise?

Yet she laid there, alive, staring at an ocean she had only seen from the tops of mountains and in the distance.

What was this?

She tried to stand and get her bearings- but a pain shot through her leg like a fire. A yowl of pure pain ran through the air from her, a tear she wanted to shed but one she sucked back up best she could. Was she going to die anyway? A hurt cat was a dead one, her ma always used to say. 

The cat collapsed back into the dirt, a silence in the air as she tried to figure out what to do. Whatever she had done to deserve this kind of pain was beyond the point- living now was more important of an issue.

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She tried to narrow her options; think of a way she could stand and baby her tender foot at the same time. Just her luck, though- a voice called from above her. The cat's head flung around and gave a mean stare to whatever it was talking to her. Ears pinned flat to her head, tail lashing back and forth in a whirl. Trying to look as pissed as she could, as angry and as wrathful as her kind could be. But she was terrified, that kind of fear that couldn't leave her eyes no matter how hard she tried.

Harlowe took a chance to look down at her foot, mangled at the ankle. She remembered hearing a snap but, couldn't tell if it was a branch or her own bone. Either way, it weren't moving.
She looked back up at the form of the stranger- a dog of some kind- and knew that he'd seen it too. The way it bent the wrong way.

The cat tried to posture herself on her belly so that when he decided to come down and take a nip at her, she could still use the force in her body to snap back.
“Don' want ch'yer help..” She uttered, a deep southern drawl pouring out between her teeth.

Panic was beginning to set in more-so now. Any kind of help would actually save her- but it was against her nature. Anything her mama taught her during their time together, one of those things was definitely to keep clear of others. Don't interact with nobody other than your own and keep interactions with your own down to a minimum. Yet here she was, stranded like a featherless chicken. 

She was ready to fight till her last breath, even the lashing of her tail tried to show it. Maybe it were enough to scare him off.

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Her eyes narrow at the dog.

“Some god you got.” Her hinted sarcasm at the situation. What god would so willingly put her in a situation like this? Broken leg, in the middle of no where, with a stranger staring her down.

She doesn't move, other than the angry scrunch of her muzzle and the wild lashing of her tail. Any attempt at moving would just bring her pain, but she was ready to fight to the death if need be. Surely this dog didn't doubt that, yet he approached with slow blinking and gentle paw steps.

“You got a lot of nerve for a pup I could take out in a second.” She hisses, eyes wildly inspecting the cliffs and the surrounding area.
“What? You got friends then?” Surely, this was a set up, right?

But what good would it do him. If he had friends, they could just swarm her no problem. Why go through all this effort? Overthinking was easier than trusting, apparently.

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His honesty ran through her like the sting of an electric fence might. She thought to keep not trusting him, writing up conspiracies in her head like a man gone mad. Trying to justify it, to think that he was just trying to put down her guard or something. Sneak a little closer, get a better angle on her neck so that the kill was quicker. Her mama's voice, in all it's rough and crackly sounding cadence, speaking so-called truths of the lies of strangers. Not a soul you could trust, she would say.

But Harlowe saw that collar around her neck.

That stupid thing that sat bulky and in her way, catching glimmers of sunlight against its metal and boxy frame. Not a thing like it in the woods, yet she carried it around like she had it most her life. The young cub remembered asking about it only to receive a sharp glare and a stern word.

Harlowe focused her glanced attention back on the dog, who carefully approached from off the ledge and closer to her. Her ears stay pinned, but her head lowers.

“Ain't no lady, thats for sure.”

No, she had seen what a lady was like. Prized cows in fenced fields. With pretty tags on their ears, brushed coats, and full bellies. She was without fences or law. No man to hark to nor pretty tag to mark her subservience. She wasn't one to come when called.

“Why you care?” Though her body was relaxing slowly, her voice still stung like a wasp. Quick and snappy, asking questions to get answers that would be clear if she would just stop to think.

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