Username: Skywardthedragon
Name: Sachie
Gender: Female
Song 1:
Dust Bowl Dance—Mumford and SonsHer once-proud homeland was torn down, trees reduced to stumps and grasslands to dirt. They had taken from the land all that could have been taken, and destroyed what couldn’t be exploited.
She scanned the barren hills, looking for any sign of food for herself. A mouse scurried past, its ribcage showing through its sparse fur. She let it get away; it wouldn’t have been much of a meal anyway.
She had to find whoever had did this.
After miles of walking, she could tell where the land was recently cleared, and where small sprouts were showing signs of growth. She followed the path of destruction, her paws cracked and thin, until she saw a Viscet sleeping on top of a dusty machine, idle but still belching fumes.
Song 2:
Natural—Imagine DragonsShe never could stand by while something happened. She had to get in it, up close and personal, and make it her own fight. Though she held no weapons, her claws and teeth were strong enough. Sharpened from weeks of scratching on stumps and dead trees to find food, they held a deadly edge.
Teeth bared, she sprang.
As soon as she connected with soft fur, the viscet underneath her yelped. It spoke words that she couldn’t understand, but that sounded frantic. Her momentum caused them both to roll off of the machine, and they landed in the dirt, dust flying up.
Claws connected with flesh, and the intruder screamed. It flailed around with no aim, it claws catching her nose and scratching it lightly. She sank her teeth deeper and deeper, as if the other viscet was only prey to be caught.
Song 3:
21 Guns—Green DayShe couldn’t tell what stopped her. Perhaps it was her adrenaline running out as the rush of the attack ended, or the lessening struggles of the viscet underneath her. Maybe she caught sight of the pain of its eyes; she couldn’t recall.
Her claws were hooked in the viscet’s hide, and she maneuvered them out with only a small squeak of pain from the victim. She hummed in what hoped was a comforting way, but the fallen viscet didn’t seem to react. A paw in front of its face proved that it was still breathing. Though a small victory, she took comfort in it.
She let the spilled blood drain into the dirt, covering it up like she was hiding a crime. It was, really, but she didn’t want to think of it.
With one last look at the fallen viscet, she walked away, filled with regret. Hopefully, it would wake up with nothing more than a throbbing pain and lost memory, but she knew in her heart it wouldn’t happen.