Heavy is the Head
Just a quick piece I dashed off in response to Cederwyn Whitefurr's, "Secrets We Withhold - WRITING GROUP CHALLENGE": Write a furry story with an animal you have NOT used before.
I ran out of time, so this remains a fragment.
11thApril, 2023
Heavy Is The Head
by Freyrfox
Heavy Is The Head
It was in the 27thyear, the year the drought broke, that Sid assumed the throne. His father, Xizyphus the III, had gone to war with the fierce and savage People of The Lake, had gambled, and had lost badly. Sid and his people received the head on a stick.
There were better ways to die, for a monarch, but there were certainly worse, and so the royal line retained its honor. Sid was robed in silk and anointed with frankincense oil between the ossicones, as was the custom of his people.
The first order of business, after the mourning and celebration had concluded, was to seek truce with the People of the Lake, though no one knew, given their degeneracy, if that could, in fact, be accomplished. Scouts and messengers were dispatched to make the attempt.
"Can they be reasoned with?" It was the lovely Erache, Sid's first consort, watching the diplomatic procession depart. She watched the figures grow smaller and smaller in the pre-dawn twilight, slowly dissolving into the distant monotony of the Northern Plain.
Sid left the words to hang in the air - some questions unworthy of an answer. In truth, he was anxious, a worried king with a worried army, but kept a placid countenance - some feelings unworthy of display.
"You have lovely eyes," he said to Erache, "even in this light they shine. Why strain them to seek what cannot be seen?" Erache bowed her reticulated neck gracefully, fluttered her long, graceful lashes, chagrined.