---

---

Grackle wandered through a void. The silence was oppressive. No scents. No sensation under her paws. Only the heavy pressure when her feet landed on an invisible floor. The world was muted.
Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.
No sights. No sounds.

Skin prickles as she feels her paws slip out from beneath her, landing hard on nothing. Panic took hold as she tried to understand what had happened.
No sights. No sounds.

What had she slipped on?
She turned her head to inspect. Blood? But where was it coming from?
A click of realization.

Red. Red. Red. Red. Bright. Light. Red. Red. Red. Red.
It was everywhere, dripping, warm, crashing like waves.
Red. Red. Red. Red.

The scent of iron, warmth, and the steady drip down her long legs, pooling on a floor that didn't exist.
Coldness gripped her, numbness spreading. She was losing too much. Too much.
Numbness. Cold.

A box seemed to bubble up, surrounding her, encasing her.
Coffin.

Could she break through? It was only blood. Stick a paw through and leave. She wasn't buried yet. Waterfalls could be passed through.
She hesitated, then reached out. Droplets bubbled up through outstretched fingers. It seemed passable. Her paw, slick with blood, extended further. Slick arm. Slick nose. Slick -

No.
Muscles tightened, threatening to snap.
Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back.

They were out there. They would see. She needed to stay safe.
Safe. Safe. Safe.
Coffin.

She couldn't let them in. Keep them out.
Out. Out.

Do not let them in.
Itchy. Itchy.

Pain erupted as they popped through delicate scars where the skin was weakest. Clusters. Clumps. Big. Small. Many.

Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Eyes.

Get them off. Rip out the roots. Scratch. Tear. Pull. Rip. Get them off.
Off. Off. Off.

Itchy. Itchy. Dirty. Disgusting. Humiliation. Eyes. Scratch. Tear. Pull. Rip. Itchy. Itchy.
loud. Loud. LOUD. TOO LOUD. TOO MUCH. STOP. STOP. STOP.
STOP STOP STOP STOP
STOP

A scream tore from a tattered throat, louder than the rest. She needed to be louder. Dampen the noise. Stay in control.

---

☽☾

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A heaving chest, cold sweat, a desperate paw reaching out for something to hold. Someone. Anyone.
Fool.

But there was no one. There never had been.
Weight heaves to static feet. Saliva rushes up to coat a burning throat, a dry mouth. The stomach bubbles, clenches and expels its contents.
Bitter. 

Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. Itchy. Itchy. Itchy.
They were still there.
She could still smell the blood, the death. She could hear the fluttering crows. Feel them watching her from under every leaf.

Crush them. Smash them.
A tree shaking with the weight of a body desperately thrown into it.
Pop them. Slam them.

Torn fur and skin didn't matter. Nothing mattered as long as they were gone.
Itchy. Itchy. Dirty.

There was water nearby. She could hear it. A stream.

In.

Ice cold. Numb the feeling.
Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.
The fur will grow back. They will not.
Freezing.
Make them go away.
Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.
Plunge under the icy waves. Dampen the noise.
You can not hear the screaming if your ears are underwater.