The collar had begun to grow itchy around her throat. It didn't hurt, but it was just . . . annoying, as Lotus was without use for a better word.
She was sprinting forwards, chasing after a mountain goat that kept getting it's legs stuck between cracks and crevices in the stone; teeth met flesh; the ungulate let out an unsavoury cry; Lotus retracted, aiming for the neck next; and, though the animal's kicks hadn't been painless, it was dead within a few minutes.
What she wasn't expecting, though, was another to come running towards her, horns propped forwards. They looked sharp; lethal, and it was only once she felt the piercing of her fur and skin did she realise . . ; she was dead.
A gasp, a cry; as if she'd just been underwater, slowly sinking; an anchor attached to her foot? No, just this – not annoying, what's a better word? . . . Irksome collar! Lotus huffed, though her teeth weren't long enough to tear the rubber. Damn it.
Lotus let out a curious, rumbling purr; she'd never been here before?; fog rolled in like storm clouds, and the woman felt her neck fur rise; worried, scared; where was she? It made no sense . . . unless . . . this was the after-life? Surely not? Did animals of all things really go to the after-life . . ?
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