Bearclaw Valley the masque of the red death

as her father approaches, she begins to clean herself. tongue along teeth, lips, the blood acrid in her mouth. she nods at his observation, eyes flickering toward the scant remnants of the rabbit. not her first kill, nor her last. she wonders how many creatures will die at her fangs in her lifetime.

she wonders how many have died at her father's.

she isn't back. she's dead, forever. i put her in the fucking ground.

who's Indra? Avicus asks without preamble. she knows very little, but what knowledge is there disturbs her. it is the name that the raving woman keeps calling her—and the name of someone who is dead. one of the many, she thinks, dead at her father's fangs.

but why?