Grumble.
Thud.
Thud.
Grrooowwwwlll.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Gurgle-gurgle.
As much as he appreciated the fortitude and (perceived) safety offered by the swamp's borders, and as sweet as the fruits that grew within the boundaries were, sometimes you just needed something a little more down-to-Novus to assuage your aching belly. Hooves heavy with the weight of the thin man's body thudded into the ground as he yawned, quietly trudging through the field in the dead of the night.
A mighty yawn ripped from his throat, near silent but for the whisper of his breath, yet placing his teeth on full display, which had some fangs to make his gaping jaws more of a maw. But it was a passive one as of now as the man to which it belonged lowered it to the ground, snuffling at the grasses that made of the field and searching for the lushest of stalks. It was summer, and the night was warm, but was still near enough to spring that the fields were not yet barren of life and filled with dry brown, and as he nipped off the tips of a few blades to take a taste the man found them crunching nicely in his teeth.
They weren't completely plush and full of water, but they were still quite good. Being incredibly hungry helped a lot.
He had known a trip to a place with more plentiful grasses was soon to be in order, but he had delayed as long as he could. His stomach had twisted from the amount of sugary fruit he had poured into it, and while that was not to say he had been avoiding the grasses of the swamplands, what he ate was simply not enough to counterbalance the other foods that did not make up the best of diets.
Too much fruit and too little grass made for an upset tummy.
And while simply not eating was, admittedly, one solution to the 'too much fruit' aspect of the issue, it did nothing to resolve the 'too little grass' part. And there came a time in every being's life when you simply couldn't go back to sleep no matter how hard you tried, for whatever reason.
For one Auru Geniven, connoisseur of anxiety levels the likes of which had never before been seen in Novus, that reason was the insistent stabbing pain in his abdomen, and the angry roiling of his belly as he laid on a relatively dry patch of land in the swamp, groaning quietly as he tried in vain to return to his repose.
No such luck, and so with a few fruits down the hatch for the energy needed to walk the distance to the fields (his stomach protested the lack of grass, but dealt with it for the time being), the equine found himself in fresh pastures, and despite himself, felt more than a little eager for a good, late-night meal.
Even as he cast his gaze from side to side, nervously scouting the empty (or so he thought) plains, even as he swallowed the small lump in his throat, and battled the whirling thoughts that he shouldn't be there, he found his ears pricking forwards despite himself, and found himself nosing the grasses with more excitement than he had thought he would feel.
(Admittedly, he had assumed this would be sort of a 'run in, eat as much as you can, run away again' sort of deal, but if thing stayed the way they were, he was content to ignore the feelings of being watched and the occasional clenching of his throat for a good meal. No one would have to know he was ever here.)
Crunch.
Crunch.
Munch.
He wouldn't lie, the feeling of relief in his abdomen as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful did make him wonder why he had not simply bucked up and come out here sooner. He was a member of the Court, was he not? He was allowed to go where he wished within the borders.
No you're not, you're a Commoner.
And what did that have to do with anything? He still lived here, his rank didn't restrict him from anywhere.
But you're you, you're supposed to stay in the swamps. You'll get in trouble for leaving.
Why?
Logic didn't necessitate that one be victorious over irrational anxiety, and while no amount of logical thinking could stop the itch along the man's back, or stop the heaviness in his breast, or the shortness of breath if he didn't make sure to take slow, steady breaths, the sheer need for food was, for the moment, overriding the need to run back to a place that was defensible. Or that at least felt that way.
@Cyrene
