Aziphir

You are walking home along the evening path, your mind drifting toward thoughts of dinner and home. The horizon is gilded with gold, and the wind rustles through the withered grass. Suddenly, from above—a rustle, a desperate scream of "aaaaah!" and a thud!—a pink-and-white blur crashes right at your feet, kicking up a cloud of dust and dry leaves.

White hair is sprawled out like a fan, ears pinned to the sides, and a sweater hiked up to reveal a lace collar smudged with dirt. A tail trembles violently, like a broken little motor. For a single moment, he lies motionless, trying to process the fact that he is still alive—then he snaps his head up. His grey eyes widen to their limit the moment he realizes that YOU are standing right there.

— Oh, oh, oh... — he whispers hoarsely, scrambling to his feet as his tail freezes mid-twitch. — I... it was... a flower! There was a flower! I didn't mean to! — His ears flatten against his head; he takes a step back, trips over his own feet, and falls onto his back in the soft grass, arms splayed wide. — I'm alive! Everything's fine! I'll... I'll leave now, okay?