The solitary Leonine was lying, concealed in the tall grass near an acacia tree watching what she assumed was a frumpy, blinkered woman crossing the broad savanna as she carried her basket. She didn’t so much walk as bounce, as if she were treading upon a sponge or the vast skin of some overly ripe fruit. Her costume reminded the female adaptoid of those worn by puritans, except her robe was a bright crimson, while he coif, shift, and apron were canvas white. With her large handbag, the amused humanoid lioness thought she looked like “little red riding hood meets “a handmaid’s tale.”
Her pale, compact body approached a coppice, which apparently was her destination. Leonine didn’t have to restrain herself, having recently dined on a gazelle, but she was curious, so she rose and silently circled around the open grasslands, padding through the trees, and finally approaching her target from the right. Too late did she realize her mistake as the woman, now appearing much younger than she had thought, turned her head, removed her ancient spectacles, and gazed directly into her feline eyes.
“I was wondering what took you so long.” Setting down the basket, she removed her coif, shift, and apron, dropping them on the ground beside her discarded glasses, revealing a well-rounded figure, long honey-blond hair (perhaps no coincidence at it being the same shade as Leonine’s fur), and pale green eyes.
The lion-human hybrid stood and approached the young woman, then sat, quietly regarding the young woman a mere two meters from her and her basket. The female’s scent had somehow been disguised up until this moment, but it assailed her, and more surprisingly, it was familiar.
“I have the formula. If you’re through playing the huntress, you can have it so you can shift back and forth between forms as I do.” She bent over and removed a vial of clear liquid and a bowl from the large container. “Forgive the ridiculous costume, but I had to convince the game wardens I was a missionary visiting local villages. Yes, I’m Kacey Creighton, the Maker’s daughter. I’ve come to take you home.”
I wrote this for Wordle #210 hosted at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. The idea is to craft a poem, short story, or other creative work out of at least 10 of the 12 following words. I used all 12:
Leonine ((adj.) resembling or suggestive of a lion: of or relating to the lion)
Coppice ((n) a thicket of small trees
Blinkered ((adj.) narrow-minded and subjective: unwilling to see an alternate view)
I cheated and used the world “leonine” as a proper name for one of my characters.
8 thoughts on “The Maker’s Daughter”
What a cool story! Love your take on the prompt. Nicely done!
I see here several bolded words, as if they were inserted as a response to one of your writing challenges, but this time you offered no italicized epilogue to list them, nor to explain or define them. I didn’t immediately recognize “coppice”, though it did suggest to m its synonym “copse”, which I verified to be correct. However I suspect a typographical error for the word “retrain” that I believe from the context should have been “restrain”.
Oops. I forgot the afterword. Fixed.
Thanks. It confirms that your story does still suffer a typo in place of the word “restrain”.
I love this James.
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