Bearclaw Valley the masque of the red death

she has said the right thing. she watches as Merrick's face relaxes, and she, too, feels some of the tension leave her. still troubled, sure—she will ruminate over this for some time. not for any interest in Indra, but surely for the unconditional, unbreakable love she bears for her mother.

but if her father is pleased, it pleases her—if only because that horrific look from before is vanished.

alive, Avicus repeats, and lets out her breath on a sigh. but death is hers. not to be, but to take. just as Merrick has taken lives, so has she. so will she. there is no greater thrill.

she bows her head in silent thanks, and then glances at him, indigo gaze gleaming. hungry? she asks. there are plenty of hares in the field; they should make light work of them as a team.