Hideaway Strath A Test Of Faith.

Some Saints joined the slaughter, others did not, but the stench of carnage leaked through the air, and through Nyra's nostrils as those who did attack shredded Aya.

The bloodlust...shoved her sanity to the side and made some otherly, hellborne monster out of the Shieldmaiden, who's ears fell deaf to Leigh's screaming for them to stop, who's senses both heightened and dulled as the monolithic woman ripped and tore past muscle and lung tissue.

Everything around her sounded distant and far away, like she was underwater. 

And yet she could breathe. 

Finding Aya's heart, which had still been beating at least to some degree...Nyra grabbed it and ripped it from it's place inside the girl's chest with malicious aggression. 

Blood spewed and spurted like macabre rain, all over Nyra's muzzle, her face, her chest, and all over all the other wolves that were too close to avoid the splurting of liquid life onto their pelts. 

Heaving for breath with pinprick pupils, Nyra almost if not definitely looked the picture of an insane psychopath, especially as she held Aya's heart in her wicked teeth. 

The sacrificed girl fell cold and limp, lifeless, shortly after. 
Nyra's senses finally returned to her, and she froze as she realized that she had really, truly, helped take a life. 

She had just given her aid to slaughter someone innocent. 

Not even a life that had done anything to deserve to be taken. 

Ears slanted back, the Shieldmaiden felt the bile rising in her throat, yet she choked it subtly back down...she would let herself vomit later. 

Nyra had few to zero good or even neutral feelings about being a killer. 
She had never truly wanted to be one, and yet...here she was. 

Life truly is a twisted, fucked up thing.


And now, so was she.