 Delya didn’t know how to cope. There was no place for her here in this season, there was nothing of her own to look after. A barren female in birthing season—a fish out of water. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children. She wanted all of the children in the way that fathers did, helping them grow up and learn what they wanted to, keeping them fed and happy and entertained and strong. That was all. She was happy to care for everyone else’s children, and she was happy to care for everyone in turn. Maybe that was why she hurt so badly—she cared too much. What a concept.
What a dandy concept. As always, the creature took to running from her problems. Through the night the creature shot, dark on her feet and dark against the sky. They always said it was darkest before the dawn but… but dawn was hours off yet. Dawn was hours off and it was so dark that she could hardly separate herself from it. Something strange and horrible had welled up inside her. The foreboding had been growing in her stomach for what seemed like days now, and everything was just getting worse and worse. Delya was getting worse.
Full force. Frankly, it was more full than force was usually, and that was saying something. A feeling of absolute disgust rolled over her first, and then something else. It sent the steward off and running, glad that there was no one awake to realize her pain. This was to be dealt with in a solitary manner. Faster, pushing herself harder, wanting to feel the ache in her muscles and the burn in her lungs. Ideally her joints would begin to smart as well, but that was a while longer yet. The Russian dancer pushed herself harder and harder, struggling to feel something other than absolute… absolute cold.
To her, anxiety was cold. The kind of cold that froze everything including your heart. Your heart, the breath in your lungs, the chill and the sting of everything that demanded feeling… or not feeling. She wouldn’t dare feel anything else. Head spinning, lungs aching, and yet she still couldn’t stop. All Delya wanted to do was cry, expel something, but there was nothing to let go of. In the mid-spring night, she couldn’t feel any of the warmth. Dead of winter chill had rolled over and there was no stopping her.
It was much later when the steward threw herself into the grass, chest aching, lungs heaving. Yes, this was the kind of pain she could handle. The anxious feelings were starting to ebb, but there was no saying they wouldn’t flare back up should something trigger them. Delya was thankful once more that everyone was asleep in their dens, minding their own business. What was clearer than ever was that she was no one’s business aside from her own. No one would make sure that she was sleeping easily in her den (which she never was), or keeping alright. She wasn’t worth worrying about now.
female – 40in – 105lbs – six – jake  |