ENOLA GAY / cigarette campfire

[deimos]

Sam couldn't conjure them. That was her first clue, the first clue to recognizing that her stash was gone. Who did it, where they were now, that was something to figure out next. She arose from her stalking ground, stepping out of her house, closing the door tightly. Cigarette stink clung to her fur, having finished one recently. Fact was, she couldn't conjure another to her paws, no matter how hard she tried. And that bothered her real bad. Like, really bad. Her eyes were narrowed, fur ruffled and raised and her horns bared for an attack as she stalked the streets.

However, it wasn't long until she found the source- the boy, the menace, the flames. She had found her stash. Unfortunately, she found it too late. Way, way too late.

She staggered to a stop, watching her precious, life saving cancer sticks flame up and roast marshmallows for the stupid fuckhead that started burning them. "Ar.. Are you- what have you done?!" She cried out suddenly, eyes widening and a string of curses following shortly after. Sam leapt towards [member=67]beck.[/member], aiming to grab him by the scruff and fling him away from the flames, a snarl across her face. Something rang out clear in her head, stopping her assault from moving closer to him after flinging him.

Dark. Dark greasy hair, dark ditch. Broken down clinic, stupid truck, stupid high Dean, high Miles. She pressed a paw to the temple of her head again, grimacing and stepping back, her body outlined by the flames. "I can't believe you." She whispered quietly.

"SPEECH"

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