Post by MICA REYNOLDS on Sept 21, 2014 12:57:53 GMT -5
Luck. It was all that kept Mica breathing. Luck, not fate, had allowed her to survive her first week in the Menagerie. She had already had her fair share of run-ins with an assortment of conflicts, from rogues to wild animals. She simply didn't know the laws of the Dome--she didn't know what places were safe and which places were not safe, nor did she know where to sleep at night and how to eat. Mica had been surviving off of whatever scraps she found in old buildings and apples which, luckily, were in season. The desperation of her situation made her all the more resolute to survive it. Her stomach constantly gnawed on her insides. Her body shook from exhaustion and dehydration. After the first night she had become jumpier than she'd ever been; every breaking branch put her on edge. She just wandered after that. It was this morning that she had happened upon the safe-house. However, it didn't seem safe to her, no, it was just another trap in this godforsaken place. Mica had passed by the building apprehensively but she decided that it was too good of an opprotunity to pass up. She reasoned with herself that she could wait and watch to see if anyone lived there. The sound of roaring, rushing water drew her around the back of the building and deeper into the woods. It was there that she found a waterfall and deep, wide pool. Mica's lips were chapped and bleeding from the lack of water she had had for the past several days. She eyed the water with the expression of a refugee--distrustful, hopeful, uncertain. The surface was placid and in the middle of the day it was warm. She drew nearer, arms crossed and footsteps light, trying to distinguish any possible threats. Mica couldn't just keep watching; she lunged forward, toward the edge when nothing dangerous immediately showed itself, and stumbled onto hands and knees as she reached desperately and inelegantly for the water. She brought her cupped hands, dripping, to her lips. It was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted! After days of walking and scavenging this tasted real, pure, and most importantly... cool. It was the smallest of blessings, to drink cool water. It ran down her chin. She dipped her hands once more into the pond. Her eyes happened across the surface. At first she saw only her rugged reflection, a foreign face staring back toward her. Then she saw a ripple that made a feral part of her stiffen. A ripple, a surge, the dark gleam of a shadow beneath the waves. Mica lurched backward just as he lunged forward, jaws gaping. She scrambled on hands and knees through the mud and grass, stumbling onto her feet. She may have screamed--well, there was no may about it. She did scream, loudly, as she finally regained her footing and sprinted toward the nearest tree. Mica clambered up it faster than she had ever clambered up anything--hand over hand, foot over foot, until she was well off the ground. It was then and only then that she turned to observe the threat, breathing heavily. |