There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...
Forever drifting in an aimless wander, slaughtering someone, something, or following its escape until he lost their trail, Moath was doing as he had always done. Drifting from killing spree to killing spree.
His last victim, a mothered fox, was a tough food. She had fought, and fought, screaming and kicking, but his muse outweighed her. His muscles outdid her own. And his distinction with reality was far gone, far, far, away.
The fox lost, and was eaten. And so the premature children within her were spared a painful death, and left to cool and perish in the field of massacre.
Tufted fur hung ragged on him, left askew from his bout with the Fox, and another piece of him was hanging. It was the left flask of fur atop the top half of his left forelimb. It was still glistening the remaining blood of the Fox, only barely dried. His own blood mingled with it. And it did not bother him, as he walked through the Watch.
And in silence, he waited.
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Messages In This Thread
RE: Questions - by Moath - April 13, 2019, 10:46 AM
RE: Questions - by Aliac - April 17, 2019, 01:16 PM
RE: Questions - by Moath - April 26, 2019, 05:30 PM
RE: Questions - by Aliac - May 01, 2019, 10:43 PM