Beauty and The Beasts: Rain

3. Poor Flowers

     A belly full of her recent kill, she checked her surroundings before slithering to the small creek located close by.  After drinking her fill she cautiously returned to her den.  Carefully wrapping her coils, unwilling to disturb the newly acquired bulge, she proceeded to get comfortable in her nest.  Although she was able to physically achieve a restful state, mentally she was agitated.

     Despite her victory over the rat, she was unsatisfied and restless.  She was usually better at holding her temper.  A patient hunter that took pride in her ability to plan almost certain victories, that was who she was.  It was how she survived this long.

     She did not regret killing the rat.  Had she let it go, it would have brought back more of its clan to take her away.  No.  What she regretted, was her loss of control.  She acted too recklessly. Sure, the rat was not a threat, but what if it had been a predator beastman?  If it mocked her strength, could she have held herself back?  Again, no.  She wouldn't have been able to keep herself from striking in anger and humiliation at being looked down upon.

      After her self-admonishment session ended, she contemplated her increase in strength.  She realized during her confrontation with the rat that she had grown stronger.  She must have received her second stripe.  Perhaps that was the reason she could not control her anger.  Taking a deep breath, she recalled bits of the legacy left to her from her father.  She focused on the times he gained his stripes.

     Confirming that he too, became more violent with every stripe he had gained.  She hissed in aggravation and disdain.  She did not want to become like her father.  A violent and possessive beastman who cared only for his mate's safety and his own ego.  However, she did respect his strength and she wanted to become even stronger than he.

     At least she solved the mystery of her hunger.  Gaining a stripe from killing the bear would inevitably cause her to slumber and burn the meal in her belly at a much quicker rate.  A large yawn overcame her, breaking her chain of thoughts.  Any more contemplation would have to wait.

     The next afternoon, she woke up feeling somewhat irritated.  Shaking off whatever dream she was having, she heightened her senses and left her nest.  She stretched her long body lazily and made her way to the creek.  She bathed in the creek, that could barely contain her beast form, downstream from where she typically drinks.  Rubbing against the stones and mud in the stream, she slowly cleaned out the debris from her scales.

     She hated sleeping in her nest without bathing first.  The last few days had been tiring and she was relieved to have finally completed this necessity.  Once finished, she warily made her way to her favorite sunning stone.  She crawled onto it tasting the air and listening for any sign of intruders.

     Hearing nothing, she laid her bright red head onto her long bright red and dark red, banded coils.  She had noticed a tightness about her and the dull sheen of her scales.  It alerted her that she would soon shed, though now was not the time.

     The temperature dropped with the sun.  The drowsy female rose from her nap.  She gazed up with a start, taking in the appearance of the moons.  She did not intend to sleep since she had just woken, but here she was, attempting to shake away her drowsiness.

     Making her way down her rock, she chided herself for her carelessness.  She had long since learned that such lapses in vigilance could get her killed.  Having such a large meal the day before, she had no need to hunt so soon.  Instead she decided to check the perimeter of her territory and strengthen her scent marks.  Anyway, she had a strong need to answer the call of nature, as her mother liked to put it.

     Her mood soured thinking of her mother.  She was grateful for the useful things her mother taught her.  Though, it was a shame those were few and far between.  She tried to recall the brief time her mother was present in her life while emptying her bladder at the base of an impressively robust tree.  Other then the pleasure of bathing regularly, did her mother leave her much else?  Her mother did tell her snakelings some interesting stories, but was usually to busy pacifying her mates to bother with them.

    She may have dislike and feared her father, but at least he gave her the tools to survive. Her mother only gave her careless and fleeting affection.  It would have been better if her mother was cold like her father.  She wouldn't have had expectations.  She wouldn't have desired for the acceptance and warmth she saw as a possibility, however fleeting.  Hiss.  Disappointed in herself for dwelling on something she could never change, she squashed the budding feeling of yearning growing in her heart.

     She emptied the remnants of the bear beastmen onto a particularly beautiful patch of small, peach colored flowers located at the edge of her territory.   She gazed at the scenery around her. She used to appreciate such sights, but now was not the time to admire natures handiwork.  She continued moving at a decent pace, her scales shined dully as the light of the moons bounced off of them.

     Close to finishing her rounds, she stopped at a puddle to get a quick drink.  Looking down at the water, her reflection returned her gaze.  Curiosity getting the best of her, she shifted.

     She had never like looking at her face.  Sure it was beautiful, but it looked too much like her fathers.  From her sharp and somewhat fierce eyes, to her not small nor large nose, and finally gazing at her naturally thin red lips.  The only difference from her father's face was her dark red eyes.  Her father's eyes were a brighter red, like fresh spilled blood, while hers resembled drying blood.

     Having had enough her face, she looked at her neck.  Her pale neck sported two stripes the color of her eyes.  Her mood improved at the sight.  These stripes were proof of her efforts and she wore them with pride.  She proudly gazed longer then necessary at them before moving down to the rest of her body.

     Her small breasts, the size of her fists, had ceased growing years ago.  She was surprised since both her sister and mother's were large, however, she was not disappointed.  She would not court any males and the opinions of other beastmen meant nothing to her.  

     She continued to gaze down her toned middle, noticing a slight increase in muscle compared to when she was one-striped.  Satisfied, she checked her legs followed by her arms.  Not seeing any other changes she faced forward and shifted.