The horse gallops through the oak wood forest as her black coat dances in the wind, flies smacking her in the face and entering her mouth. The hot summer sun shone brightly, almost blinding her and steering her off course. Sweat droplets began to emerge from her pores like they were coming out of hibernation, becoming as sticky as adhesive glue, gluing together the cloak's fabric to her brown skin. Undoubtedly, the cloak was a mistake. Regardless, the horse pressed onwards and further and further until NEEEIIIGHH. Maria yields the horse at a tall gate, the metal bars appearing as if they were trying to reach heaven. She dismounts, her eyes frowning at the gold lock on the metal gate. Let's see if I remember how to do this. She walks back a few feet and then sprints with a determined pace. Her black leather boots spring her upwards as she launches the rope through the crack at the top of the concrete wall. Her boots land her on the side of the white wall. Steady now. Mama begins climbing up like a spy on a secret mission.
She could feel the rope rubbing harshly against her palms, burning them almost as if they were creating a nonconsensual spark, but she continued grunting onwards, sweat droplets slowly seeping down her forehead until she reached the white, brick top where her body collapsed. Her palms were releasing steam from the rope burns while simultaneously sizzling on the wall like eggs in a frying pan, her arms were pulsating from the aching pain of having to lift her entire body up what she remembers to be thirty feet, and her feet felt squished between the inner, leather walls of her boots, completely swimming in bodily fluids, but the view of the wooden and cobblestone city made all of that worth it. It was vast and busy as many people were walking around from concession stand to concession stand. Some were mothers walking with their children who were hugging teddy bears, excited about finally getting soft or toasted bread. Some were men that looked somewhere in their forties, full, black beards with freshly cut hair and all, perhaps new iron swords, molded from the hottest lava to give them their sharp points to prepare for a potential attack. Some were riding around in motorbikes made from the finest redstone circuitry to sell newspapers on the road, the carbon emission filling her nostrils and giving her a dose of nostalgia.
Her eyes begin hyper fixating on the circuitry, mesmerized by how intricate it was and how much calculation must have been done to determine how the bike had to be built to encompass it—Wait. She shakes her head to refocus her wandering mind and lets down the rope. Her reluctant hands latch onto the rope and she climbs downwards, her palms harshly burning against the rope's fibers. Her feet bones shatter on the dry and ashy ground. Stumbling, she pulls her black, silk hood over her head and pursues the concession stands. She glances around. Eyes of mothers, fathers, children, soldiers, paper boys were all her, or at least that's what it felt like to her. Okay, just get the fish and get out of here.
Her feet start clamping with a purpose along the cobblestone, dirt road towards the concession stand with the signature, stinky fish smell. She could feel splashes of tiny fish guts flying at her face as the butcher chops the dead fish into transferrable meat slabs. "'Afternoon, Boris," Maria says, launching the small, brown sack of her emerald coins. The butcher glares at Maria, his eyelids practically squeezing his eyeballs. He opens the sack, still staring her down and slowly pulls out one with his calloused fingers. His iris examines the "made in 1865" engraving and the inscription of a man's face and drops the coin. "No good," Boris shakes his head. Mama leans over the stand, "Please Boris, can't you just give me the fish this one time?"
"Sorry, it's my boss's policy."
"Can you talk to your boss to let me off the hook?"
"Mhmm Boris will see."
Boris descends under the table like he's walking down imaginary stairs and comes back out wearing a brown cap.
"Sorry Maria, it's our policy. Boris—er we value our integrity too much."
Maria sighs and drags the sack back towards her, "I understand."
Maria begins to walk away, wearing this solemn expression that was enough for Boris to want to say "It was nice to see you again" but those words failed to escape his mouth so he looks down at his fish slab and dances his index finger through the scales, resting his dried up face against his hand.
"Hey."
Boris lifts up his head and raises his cut eyebrows.
"I thought you knew not to play with your catch"
Boris chuckles softly, his whole calloused face getting into it, "Or you'll lose the damn thing?"
Maria smiles, her whole face lighting up as she whispers fondly, "Yeah dumbass." She puts her hood back on, tipping her head to Boris and walks off.
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M-Maw? Timber questions as he rubs his eyes and looks up at whose scaly and slimy hand is touching his shoulder. Standing over him in front of the blazing, bright sun was a weird-looking fish with fimbriae, blowing in the wind. The fish had scales like any other fish, but it also had what looked to be cat fur growing out of them. Clear mucus was dripping off of the fish's ear, the one that was used to comfort him, and onto his grey coat, but Timber didn't care. He was more intrigued by the fish's captivating, yet soulless, eyes that were as black and sharp and shiny as obsidian found from opening volcanic rock. The standing fish, or cat, or whatever it was, wanders away on its hind legs and forelimbs. "Hold yer horses!" Timber cries out, but the axolotl continues to scurry towards the crystal waters. He trots quickly, launches himself through the air, and tackles the walking fish, cat thing. Wrapping himself around the creature, Timber tosses and turns on the ground, his fur down to his undercoat becoming soiled and muddy. The muddy creature kept trying to crawl its way out of Timber's firm grasp, the water's edge not too far off from the tips of its furry digits, but he managed to dig his claws into its dorsal fin.
"Let me be, now!" The creature begs in writhing pain. "But I'm right plum starved!" Timber whines and grunts. The creature, out of fear and frustration, jabs Timber in the snout with its hind limb. "Law, that smarts!" Timber yelps and begins to dig his claws deeper into the creature's furry dorsal fin. "Right nice!" The creature dictated firmly, punching him in the snout with its hind limb with the consistent tempo of a paddleball. Timber fiery rage and chomps down on its fin, making sure that it bursts into flames and chomps down on the fin, making sure that his razor-sharp teeth sink into its squishy flesh. "Yeouch!" The creature screeches in pain. It tries to drag itself towards the ocean, the ocean's warmth practically hugging the tips of its furry digits, but he keeps pulling in the creature like it's his greatest catch and slowly backs away on his hind legs.
—----------------
Timber crawls backwards on his hind legs through the lush forest, his hind paws snapping isolated twigs, stepping in muddy soil, and feeling the prickly grass between his toes. His bite was deeper than ever as he dragged the unconscious axolotl through the muddy forest ground at a slight slant, green blood smearing. His tongue was slathered with the creature's mucus like a piece of toast being slathered in butter. Ah'm fixin' t'eat mighty fine tonight, despite how salty and bland it tasted. Once he could finally feel the entirety of the sun's warmth as if it was putting a blanket on him, saliva began running down from his snout all over the dorsal fin. He moved faster on his hind legs, listening to the wonderful sounds of his paws pitter pattering against the wooden steps. Timber drags the dying creature to the middle of the house, the sun peaking in through their wooden ceiling to highlight the crime scene. His jaw lets go of the dorsal fin like a child having to accept the fact that his mother can't come and stay with him in his kindergarten class on the first day of school. His eyes analyze the sections of the creature and drool at what looks to be the juiciest parts of its body. And then Timber locks eyes with the creature's innocent, shiny pupils. M-Maw?
He looks over at its bleeding dorsal fin. Tears begin to well up in his eyelids. He stumbles back. M-MAW?! His body slams against Maria's work table. He begins trying to read through her inscriptions, but it is in this complicated language that has all these symbols. He spreads and spreads the pages out, tear droplets falling on each sheet. NEEEIIIGHH. His ears perk up, but he still keeps flipping and flipping through pages. "Tim? I couldn't get the fish," Maria calls out, fidgeting with her cloak as the sound of her creaking footsteps fills the silent room. "I might have to do some more calculations—" her heart drops as her body begins to freeze. The dying corpse was laying on a small pool of green clotted blood, its hands still crawling the wooden floor, its skin bleaching from white to egg shell white, its dark blue veins visibly branching rapidly across her body like a tree fed with growth hormones, its overall body twisted as if someone had finished wringing out the last bit of water out of it, its face looking up to the wooden sky like it was nervous for what could lie beyond, its obsidian eyes practically begging for it to be something worth looking forward to.
"Maria, I need yer help!" Timber cracks, tears streaming down his face. Maria's thawing body stumbles over to a chest on the ground. Her sweaty palms almost slip up a glass bottle and manage to set on the wooden workspace. "Carry the thing to the bed," she instructs in a shaky and stuttering voice, pointing towards it for Timber. He carries the dying corpse up like he's carrying shards of glass and lays it on the mattress as if it were a newborn infant. Looking at the bloody corpse sporadically spread out, its blue veins branching out across its face and from its arms, made his heart pound against his chest like a paddleball. "Maria, how's that elixir brewin' coming along?" He cries out with a shaky breath. "Just fine" was all Maria could muster out while she sprinkled some fiery, orange powder into the brewing stand and stirred the mixture in the glass bottle. Droplets splashed out and dripped everywhere as she ran towards the small room, with each quick step cracking and clapping against the hard wooden floor until she collapsed on the mattress. She gently lifts up the creature's pale head, opens its chapped eggshell white lips, and slowly pours the magenta liquid down its esophagus while Timber peaks over from the bedside.
All the dark blue veins started retreating under the corpse's skin. The tissues of the open wound sealed up almost like a Ziploc bag, the last droplets of blood seeping down. Maria watched as the creature kept trying to fight back its eyes from closing until it finally gave in. Her face shifts to a sad demeanor as she looks over at Timber, peeking from the edge of the bed like a giddy child waiting for their sleepy parents to wake up so they could open Christmas presents. She sighs, "I'm going to go back to the drawing board." Maria clip-clops out the small room with Timber's happy tail slapping her calf on her way out. Timber looks at the reviving corpse with childlike wonder and lays his snout on the mattress's edge. He starts whining, but the creature's eyes remain closed. He climbs into the bed anyway and trots around in a circle within a free space until he lies down. He nervously snuggles up to the snoring creature and closes his own eyes, smiling.