Fairspell Meadow lucifer bleeds ichor

churning legs carried the stranger away from merrick, who allowed a second of repose to pass before snaking into a run that followed the crushed stalks left behind in the other’s wake.
here the tempest and the ecstasy! here the agony of lungs fitting to burst too soon, expanding in the slendering ribcage of a young body who has gone too long without proper nourishment.
shoving himself beyond all the same, merrick gave lurid pursuit, eyes fixed on the pale bobbing haunches darting just ahead. he hungered for the vein-split of a breaking bone between his teeth, for the scream, for the swallow and inhale of power.
as if waking from a dream, with each step merrick began to come more alive, nerve and artery and loins pulsing, pulsing with the vitality of the hunt and the cold lash of wind across his sneering visage.