@utahraptorian
life had settled into a dull, frustrating routine ever since her sibling’s death. when only indi showed herself for the cameras for weeks and weeks, she knew they assumed the worst. that is why humans stopped coming at all. there were no veterinary visits. no paddock inspections or cleaning. no more kind-eyed mother.
just indi. and trees. and the decaying bones of past meals.
and the more she paced the constricting walls of her home cage, the more angry she grew, and the more lonely. she counted the rising and setting of the sun and moon; she observed every leaf on every tree; she even attempted to carve snippets of human writing on spare bones. she successfully spelled DANGER and CAUTION, but had no idea what the words meant.
there was no intellectual stimulation and no company-- there was only herself, and isa’s voice, which was at best distant and unintelligible, and at worse screaming for help she could not give.
all was silent and stillness until one morning. when indi was attempting another carving, this one of herself, a voice spoke through the paddock’s speakers.
it reminded her of her mother’s, and she hated the way her heart leapt in her chest.
she imperiously turned her head towards the nearest camera, eyes narrowing. she would graciously listen, for now.