[✿] There’s ice in my water

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 When she awoke, opening her eyes in a mid-morning daze, she was already near the edge.

 Splayed a-top of a large hill, where olive eyes would round in panic at the sight of unfamiliarity and cause her limbs to flail. Her body rolled downhill rather unceremoniously, hitting every rock and crevice in its wake, and by the time she’d reach the bottom she’d been met with a rude finality. A protruding branch that grew from the hillside caught her hindquarter just near the end, carving a deep gnash into her skin by the time she’d fall.

 The girl cried out, eyes watery from both the impact and the gaping wound on her left hindquarters. She pressed her muzzle against it frantically to stop the bleeding, lapping at it while the cool sensation of morning breeze seared an uncomfortable sensation against open flesh. A drawn out whimper simmered from her chords, the numbness from her bruised muscles making it all worse. She’d have to find a water source to wash off — lest it becomes infected.

 Yet for a moment, Eloise took her attention away from her wound to look at her surroundings…..even if the fae were to seek a water source, where would she look?

 This place…..this wasn’t where she’d fallen asleep at all…was it?

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Silence and solitude—those Louve was used too. But this feeling of peace…of true weightlessness—that was new. If it were up to her, she’d have stayed asleep forever.

Content. Comfortable. Safe, tucked away in the tall bush, hidden from prying eyes.

Nothing ever went her way.

There was a commotion, loud and disruptive nearby that yanked her away from the quiet she so desperately sought and the woman awoke with a startle, her lungs seizing in one loud gasping breath. Instinct unfurled her limbs in a sudden, graceless sprawl—long legs untangling, muscles twitching before she even had time to think. Long jaws, although new to her, parted as ivory gnashed against each other and her eyes, blurry with sleep, squinted as she tried to make out the scene before her.

Then, the scent hit her. Blood.

It was unmistakable. Familiar. Nauseating.

It filled her nostrils before her eyes found what she sought and the woman’s face twisted, unease settling within her stomach.

What–who–was it?

And then, the realization struck her, sharp as a dagger between the ribs.

This was not his castle. Not the gilded walls of her prison.

Not her home.

“H-hello—” she tried, her throat sore, the words a rasp, barely there. Then sharper, louder, venom seeping into her throat. “Who's there?”

It wasn’t really a question. It was a demand, an accusation, laced with venom to mask the terror threading through her bones. She remained rooted to the spot, every muscle locked in rigid tension, bracing herself for whatever was to come.
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