03-25-2019, 08:32 AM
The subway car was half empty. Unsurprising given the hour.
Tenzin’s knee bounced. She’d scrubbed herself clean at the safe house, but she could still scent the faint tang of blood on her skin. Little worry circled Amy Pond’s fate; she trusted Jacinda’s leadership implicitly enough to know the woman would do whatever was best. She didn’t need Tenzin for that. And it was fortunate, really, for when Silver had bitten her from the dream, Tenzin’s usual calm evaporated. She couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t stay caged in human walls.
Only there was nowhere to go.
She could almost hear the whine seeking escape from her throat. The agitation itched up her skin with the need to run, far and fast, like her legs might eat up the miles and ocean between her and her pack; to find thick fur and wet noses and home. They had been the ones to nudge her in the direction of Moscow in the first place. She had a purpose here, and meaning, even if those things had yet to become clear. Trust was easy. Following direction was easy.
But why must she do it alone?
Restless fingers found the bracelets at her wrist, instinct reaching for the Silver’s fang. But of course the memory had found new purpose. Tenzin regretted nothing of the gift; the human company was valued, and undeniably things had been easier since Jacinda. But it was not enough either. Not without the wolfdream too.
She left the city’s transport tunnels when the moon was still high, drowned out by human light and stink. Long legs roamed a route to the surface. Tenzin loped through ever quieter streets until she didn’t know where she was. Suburban lights had faded, the city smells a lighter touch. Humanity itself a lighter touch. Then she ran. Ran like brushfire chased her from the den, thoughts reaching wide and desperate and confused. Reaching out to nowhere.
Tenzin’s knee bounced. She’d scrubbed herself clean at the safe house, but she could still scent the faint tang of blood on her skin. Little worry circled Amy Pond’s fate; she trusted Jacinda’s leadership implicitly enough to know the woman would do whatever was best. She didn’t need Tenzin for that. And it was fortunate, really, for when Silver had bitten her from the dream, Tenzin’s usual calm evaporated. She couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t stay caged in human walls.
Only there was nowhere to go.
She could almost hear the whine seeking escape from her throat. The agitation itched up her skin with the need to run, far and fast, like her legs might eat up the miles and ocean between her and her pack; to find thick fur and wet noses and home. They had been the ones to nudge her in the direction of Moscow in the first place. She had a purpose here, and meaning, even if those things had yet to become clear. Trust was easy. Following direction was easy.
But why must she do it alone?
Restless fingers found the bracelets at her wrist, instinct reaching for the Silver’s fang. But of course the memory had found new purpose. Tenzin regretted nothing of the gift; the human company was valued, and undeniably things had been easier since Jacinda. But it was not enough either. Not without the wolfdream too.
She left the city’s transport tunnels when the moon was still high, drowned out by human light and stink. Long legs roamed a route to the surface. Tenzin loped through ever quieter streets until she didn’t know where she was. Suburban lights had faded, the city smells a lighter touch. Humanity itself a lighter touch. Then she ran. Ran like brushfire chased her from the den, thoughts reaching wide and desperate and confused. Reaching out to nowhere.