Quote:
Originally Posted by Shadow
Willow nodded. “Alright don’t let flies get them I’ll be right back I guess.” She didn’t wait for anyone to reply as she walked into the jungle forest thing in the island. When she was well within the trees she stopped and slid to the ground.
Here she could cry. The pain of her cuts hurt-her friends are probably dead. She will probably die here. All those people are dead. All those children are dead. She will never see her family again. Here she could cry. She never liked crying infront of people because she took that as a sign of weakness.
She guessed it was because she wanted to show that girls where strong too. She didn’t know how she got that into her head but it was there anyway. So she cried. Willow was a silent crier so no one could hear unless they where really close.
After about ten-fifteen minutes of crying she forced herself to look for sticks and stones. Tears still rolling down her cheeks and she sniffled everyonce and a while but she kept on going. ‘We need warmth soon. I need warmth...I’m soaked-that won’t be good at night.’
The girl thought to herself. She was getting pretty hot...maybe it would be a good idea to cut her hair...she didn’t realize all the sound she was making as she was having a silent argument with herself about her hair.
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(Westie is guarding that food with his life, no fly gonna get on that! Now it's Hawk's turn to shine!)
Hawk was humming to himself as he broke off the stems of the marigold, filling his grass basket. Flittering from bush to bush, getting the herbs and berries he needed. He dropped the basket as a rather loud crash came from his left side. Ducking down into the bushes, he creeped up towards it.
No, Bad Hawk. Your father told you what happened to the curious monkey! DEATH. The nineteen year old mentally scolded himself, before doubling back and picking up the herbs he had dropped. Then, his curious nature got the better. He abandoned his basket for the bushes. Crawling on his hands and knees, he poked his head out of a rather large berry bush, only to pull it back in shock. He then peeked out again, now watching the rather pale woman gather sticks and rocks.
Why is she so loud? I bet the whole island can hear her! She's putting herself in danger? And why is she so pale? And wearing such strange clothing. He mused to himself. He then dragged himself out of the bush, sitting underneath it with a amused half smile on his tanned face. His blue eyes, strange among his tribe, winked like sapphires as he tipped his head to the side, black face paint like soot on his face. "So very loud," he said, half to himself, but loud enough so this strange human could hear him.
Great. Good luck reviving her when she dies of shock. he told himself.
(I'm going for a 'I'll never grow up, Peter Pan' vive for him. I like it, he reminds me of Peter Pan)