Otatso Wetlands Pulp Fiction Confession

"...For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear..." she finished her prayer to Mephala as she sat by the goose she had killed. At night the birds always found a good place to hide, but she was skilled in finding them in the dark. This waterfowl had been unordinarily alone, perhaps a male who had failed in finding a mate.

The black-furred priestess was about the feather the goose when she heard something faintly moving in the water. Her indigo eyes fixed on a silohette in the marsh slowly approaching her. She did not move, only glaring at it intently, watching as its features became more defined.....

A wolf, male, with mad yellow eyes. His fur was dishevelled and matted, tongue lolling wildly out of his maw. The Priestess of Mephala said nothing as she grew into view of the mad wolf. There was no good reason in provoking him.