Herbalists' Cache i knew it wasn't actually you a few feet from my reach.

it matters not, the little cuts — the rivulets of dewdrop blood that rouge her hide. she was insensate to these small nuisances, caught only in the maddening circus of her gradually declining disease.

after crashing against a thorny rebuke of the bush’s edge, caiaphas was freed; in time to see a shellshocked silvery youth, regarding her with wide eyed horror. caiaphas lurched, frothy lips parting — yet no sound save a choked and haggard gasp made it past her frothing lips.