[/html]Red and white and a thousand dark greys from the spears of rain fell on her, dripped from her face and her hair and her dirty, soiled fur. His body stopped moving beneath her, but she did not acknowledge this. She brought the knife up again, climbed higher up on his body and let the blade find flesh that had not yet been cut. She slit his throat and gauged out his eyes. She cut his tongue from his smiling mouth and took his heart from his chest. Her blade became dull and gradually, the adrenaline and fury left her, and there was nothing left to destroy.
She sat crouched, half inside the gaping cavity she had carved in his body, soaked in more blood than rain. The dagger lay beside her somewhere, hidden in the mud. The thunder boomed again in the distance. Her mind had emptied except to dully note the terrible pain in her shoulder and a pressure that was again building in her head, her throat, her chest. Cassandra sucked in a long, desperate breath and crawled out and away from the wolf's corpse. There was no energy left to stand, but slowly, she made her way back to her small pit in the ground, under the thick leaves of the late-summer oak, and hidden behind a smattering of ferns. The rain would wash away the blood. Eventually.
| Messages In This Thread |