Quince glared after Bear as he rambled onwards, further into the forest. Carefully and deliberately, Quince brushed off the specks of leaf litter that had stuck to her clothes when Bear had trodden on her foot. And hand. She observed that her limbs were fully intact, and she was uninjured, and nodded once to herself as she decided Bear was probably not a villain intending to mutilate her. Quince delicately picked her way over the scattered decaying leaves and picked up the thing she'd thrown at Bear when he'd poked her with his nose. She wished she had held onto it a little longer, just enough so that she could have thrown it at Bear when he poked her for the second time, this time with his claw. Just because he'd done that, she had a rip in her nice new coat. It was one of the last coats of the season, too. The birds were migrating soon, and there were no other green leaves. Not that she'd seen, anyway. With an annoyed sigh, Quince dusted herself off again, pocketed the thing, and stalked off in the opposite direction to where Bear had gone. Good riddance.
> 'Bear', 2016
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Spontanéité
KurzgeschichtenA collection of some bits and pieces of my written works. These bits and pieces weren't all spontaneous pieces of writing, though. They're descriptions of people, places and memories, and maybe they're short stories or other things. I don't know, it...
