Bramblepoint the laughter of the stars

it was night, now. 
she girl trembled wildly, saliva mixed with blood dripping from her maw, head hung below her shoulders. her face was a mess of barely clotted wounds, of blood dried and fresh, and faded blue gaze staring from the midst of it all. her maw hung agape, displaying within a mess of flesh, and her limbs quaked with exhaustion. she was in trees, now, though knew not whether she had run north or south, east or west. only that she had run, from the obsidian girl that had taken her tongue. 

it was only when her limbs almost buckled did she slow, and stop, huddling against a boulder which offered the guise of protection. she could not even cleanse her wounds, for the absence of a tongue and the fact that they littered her face stopped her from doing so. but she did not care, not anymore. the pain ought to have been fierce, but it was not. it was numb, as was she.

---

@Rannoch