Larksong Grotto eat your kings

in all her time within these wilds, she had never been more afraid than she was now. even when her zeal had paraded her before a horde of heartless shadows (costing her tail), she had not been filled with this much trepidation, this much worry, this much gut-churning dread. she did not know the man who led the charge; he was young for his position, but the fire burned brightly in his spirit.

to hosannah's flank there was shiloh the boy, except he was no longer a boy either - having been tutored in the ways of the priesthood during her time away from the shrine. he was a vicar, and she would have been proud had she not been so naturally vain. hosannah could not look at him - and she chose, time and again, to ignore the last of the inquisition. the bitch who had turned the whole of the shrine against her: heba.

hosannah could feel the eyes of her wretched cousin upon her; in any other moment, she would have raised her head and lorded her culture and her power over these wolves, but she was but a prisoner. it was a fact that heba no doubt relished, as it was her doing.

she kept to herself, but seethed silently beneath the weight of her penance, and when daniel called forth the wolves of the grotto, hosannah turned her head and looked away.